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AMERICAN   LITERATURE 


AN     ELEMENTARY     TEXT-BOOK 


FOR  USE  IN 


HIGH  SCHOOLS  AND  ACADEMIES 


BY 


JULIAN  HAWTHORNE 

AND 

LEONARD   LEMMON 

Superintendent  City  Schools,  Sherman,  Texas 


BOSTON,   U.S.A. 

D.   C.   HEATH   &   CO.,   PUBLISHERS 

i8qi 


COFVRIGHT,   1891, 

By  JULIAN  HAWTHORNE 

AND 

LEONARD  LEMMON. 


Typography  by  J,  S.  Gushing  &  Co.,  Boston,  U.S.A. 
Presswork  by  Berwick  &  Smith,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


7/3 
M377 


PREFACE. 


American  Literature  has  of  late  been  receiving  considerable 
attention.  Professor  Moses  Coit  Tyler  and  Professor  Charles  F. 
Richardson  have  each  published  histories  about  it;.  Under  the 
editorship  of  Charles  Dudley  Warner,  a  series  of  volumes  on 
American  men  of  letters  is  now  appearing.  Mr.  E.  C.  Stedman, 
in  conjunction  with  Mrs.  Hutchinson,  has  followed  up  his  "  Poets 
of  America"  with  a  handsome  array  of  tomes  entitled  "  American 
Authors,"  and  Mrs.  Sarah  K.  Bolton's  "Famous  American  Authors" 
does  a  similar  thing  on  a  much  smaller  scale.  Many  American 
authors  have  themselves  been  yielding  to  an  autobiographical  im- 
pulse, the  fruits  of  which  have  appeared  in  magazines  and  news- 
papers. Mr.  John  Bigelow  has  won  the  gratitude  of  students  by 
his  exhaustive  work  on  Benjamin  Frankhn ;  and  Emerson,  Thoreau, 
Poe,  and  others  have  been  the  subjects  of  various  biographers. 
Our  literary  men  seem  in  no  immediate  danger  of  being  forgotten. 

It  is  singular,  therefore,  that  so  few  school  manuals,  devoted  exclu- 
sively to  American  Literature,  have  yet  been  put  forth.  Until  quite 
lately,  almost  the  only  approaches  to  such  a  thing  have  been  in  the 
form  of  supplements  to  manuals  of  English  Literature,  or  of  Uni- 
versal Literature  —  essays  of  a  dozen  or  a  score  of  pages,  appended 
in  a  shamefaced  manner  to  the  latter  extremity  of  a  volume.  Shaw's 
"  English  Literature,"  for  example,  concludes  with  a  very  concise 
"  sketch  "  of  our  leading  writers,  written  by  H.  T.  Tuckerman  —  a 
careful  and  scholarly  piece  of  work,  and  good  enough  for  English 
pupils,  but  quite  inadequate  to  the  needs  of  our  own  schools  and 
academies.  There  can  be  no  question  of  the  expediency  of  afford- 
ing the  rising  generation  of  this  country  an  adequate  notion  of 
what  American  Letters  really  are.  But  books  Hke  those  above 
mentioned  are  not  suited  to  this  purpose,  and  were  not  designed 


iv  PREFACE. 

for  it.  A  school-book  was  wanted  :  something  to  be  used  in  the 
class-room,  to  be  studied  for  what  it  contained,  and  to  indicate 
further  lines  of  research  where  such  are  required.  No  work  is  so 
certain  to  lead  to  results  of  lasting  value  as  that  which  is  pursued 
independently. 

To  meet  these  needs,  the  present  "Manual"  has  been  written. 
In  preparing  it,  we  have  examined  books  of  biography  and  criti- 
cism, both  well-known  and  obscure.  We  have  had  recourse  to 
various  pubHc  libraries,  and  to  some  private  ones.  Where  author- 
ities have  conflicted,  we  have  hunted  down  our  facts  through  the 
columns  of  magazines,  pamphlets  and  monographs.  When  no 
.,  V.  conflict  existed,  we  have  availed  ourselves  of  the  best  published 

^1  f  f^'  statements.     But  in  the  matter  of  passing  critical  judgments  upon 
f\\f       literary  work,  we  have  followed  our  independent  conviction,  and 
must  be  held  responsible  therefor. 

Kindly  aid  has  come  to  us  from  several  sources.  Mr.  Charles 
W.  Stevenson,  of  Warrensburg,  Mo.,  and  Messrs.  H.  C.  Davis  and 
C.  C.  Hemming,  of  Gainesville,  Texas,  have  lent  valuable  books 
and  papers.  Dr.  Leslie  Waggener,  chairman  of  the  Faculty  of 
Texas  University,  has  given  friendly  counsel;  and  to  these  and 
other  friends  we  return  our  hearty  thanks. 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


For  Names  of  Writers  see  General  Index  at  End  of  Volume. 


PAGE 

Preface iii 


To  Teachers vii 

Introduction ix 

CHAPTER  I. 
Colonial  Literature i 

CHAPTER  n. 
Benjamin  Franklin 14 

CHAPTER   HI. 
The  Revolutionary  Period 22 

CHAPTER   IV. 
Pioneer  Period 37 

CHAPTER  V. 
Some  Statesmen  and  Historians ^ 69 

CHAPTER   VI. 
Poets  of  the  First  Half  Century 91 

V 


Vi  TABLE    OF  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   VII. 

PAGE 

Religious  and  Social  Reformers 120 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne 157 

CHAPTER  IX. 
From  Hawthorne  to  Bret  Harte 172 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Innovators 243 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Writers  of  To-day 269 


TO    TEACHERS. 


This  manual  is  intended  to  be,  not  an  end  in  itself,  but  a  means 
to  an  end.  It  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  a  substitute  for  independent 
literary  study.  It  is  a  method  and  a  guide  ;  did  it  attempt  to  be 
more,  it  would  attempt  too  much.  At  the  present  day  it  is  hardly 
necessary  to  remind  teachers  of  this. 

Mastery  of  the  lines  of  study  herein  marked  out  involves  con- 
siderable reading  on  the  pupil's  part.  Under  proper  encourage- 
ment and  guidance,  pupils  will  not  be  found  to  show  aversion  to 
reading.  The  practical  experience  of  several  years  has  convinced 
us  that  if  a  pupil  be  led  wijh  tact,  and  if  the  leader  be  himself  an 
intelligent  student,  genuine  interest  may  be  awakened  and  main- 
tained. Every  human  activity  has  found  expression  in  literature, 
and  no  human  mind  can  fail  to  find  somewhere  in  literature  con- 
genial food.  Longfellow  may  find  an  echo  in  those  to  whom 
Emerson  is  too  remote.  If  Jonathan  Edwards  be  top  abstruse, 
try  Irving's  essays  ;  or  his  "  Knickerbocker,"  should  Bancroft  seem 
dry.  Something  can  be  found  to  suit  every  grade  of  development 
and  variety  of  temperament.  ~ ^ 

It  will  often  happen  that  those  features  in  a  book  which  please  -i 
the  pupil,  are  not  those  which  a  cultivated  judgment  would  prefer.  I 
Enlightened  appreciation  of  literature  is  a  plant  of  slow  growth. 
What  one  gets  from  a  book  depends  on  what  one  brings  to  its 
perusal.  Let  not  the  teacher,  therefore,  feel  discouraged.  If 
ninety  per  cent  of  a  beginning  class  dislike  poetry,  do  not  try  to 
convert  them  by  argument ;  read  them  Longfellow's  "  Paul  Revere," 
or  Browning's  "  How  they  brought  the  Good  News  from  Ghent 
to  Aix,"  or  Campbell's  "  Hohenlinden,"  or  even  Cowper's  "John 
Gilpin";  and  before  you  have  finished,  their  conversion  will 
have  commenced. 


viii  TO    TEACHERS. 

It  has  been  left  to  the  teacher  to  supply  questions  involving 
rhetorical  criticism,  when  such  are  deemed  desirable.     Youthful 
literary  enthusiasm  is  apt  to  be  checked  by  over-insistence  upon 
technical  details.     The  thought  is  the  vital  thing,  and  should  be 
the  goal  of  early  study.     "  Poetry,"  says  Matthew  Arnold,  "  is  a 
criticism  of  Hfe."     Do  not  lead  the  pupil  to  suppose  that  it  is  an 
illustration  of  rhetorical  and  metrical  rules, 
.^^^''^uch  questions  as  have  been  included  in  the  volume  are  sug- 
I    gestive  mainly.     Encourage  the  pupils  to  ask  and  answer  questions 
I    of  their  own.     Make  the  class  a  forum  of  free  hterary  discussion ; 
j     thus  stimulating  interest,  increasing  critical  acumen,  impressing 
striking  features  and  revealing  the  tastes  and  ability  of  the  pupils. 
Make  them  tell  in  their  own  words  the  substance  of  their  yester- 
day's reading.     Cause  the  author  and  his  work  to  live  in  their 
minds,  and  you  will  not  find  them  lacking  in  proficiency. 
1^-  Standard  writers  are  now  obtainable  at  so  cheap  a  rate,  that 
i    any  one  may  afford  the  material  for  a  year's  reading  in  connection 
with  this  manual.     Lovell's  twenty-cent  "Library,"  for  example, 
contains  Bryant,  Willis,  Poe,   some  of  Whittier  and  Longfellow, 
Cooper,  Irving  and  Emerson.     Selections  from  the  best  American 
authors  are  to  be  had  at  fifteen  cents  a  number  in  Houghton's 
Riverside  Literature  Series.     Complete  editions,  when  accessible, 
are  of  course  to  be  preferred  to  selections;   and  the  spread  of 
free  libraries  tends  to  smooth  the  way.     The  objection  of  expense, 
at  all  events,  is  not  a  serious  one. 

A  list  of  useful  reference-books  is  appended.  They  should  be 
comprised  in  every  school  library. 

Notice  of  errors  detected  in  this  volume,  and  suggestions  and 
criticisms  looking  to  its  improvement,  will  be  thankfully  received 
by  the  authors. 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  criticism,  as  in  biography,  the  optimist  does  best.  For  true 
optimism  implies  not  indiscriminate  complacency,  but  belief  in 
growth  towards  higher  states.  It  is  faith  in  man's  The  point  of 
destiny,  and  in  the  Divine  ordering  thereof.  In  deal-  view, 
ing  with  the  subject  of  American  literature,  optimism  is  not  expe- 
dient only,  but  indispensable.  Unless  we  can  see  promise  in  it, 
there  is  not  much,  as  yet,  that  we  can  see.  After  a  few  great 
names,  —  to  be  told  off,  perhaps,  on  the  fingers  of  one  hand,  — 
we  are  at  the  end  of  our  original  creative  geniuses.  All  the  rest 
are  either  reflections  of  these,  or  of  European  models,  or  else  are 
really  nothing  at  all  but  print  and  paper. 

There  is  no  ground  for  discouragement  in  this.  Genius,  like 
other  phenomena,  is  subject  to  statistics,  and  America,  in  propor- 
tion to  her  age  and  population,  has  had  as  many  gen-  ^^^  condi- 
iuses  as  any  other  nation.  The  mass  of  all  literature  tion  in 
of  modern  times  is  made  up  of  writings  below  the  first  ®  *^^* 
class.  Readers  no  more  than  authors  can  or  ought  to  be  always 
at  concert  pitch.  We  like  to  climb  a  mountain  now  and  then ; 
but  we  live  in  the  valleys.  And  in  American  literature  there  are 
many  pleasant  glades,  with  a  certain  distinctiveness  of  scenery, 
wherein  we  may  wander  harmlessly  and  even  profitably.  These 
native  vales  of  ours  are  broadening  as  we  advance,  and  assuming 
a  richer  as  well  as  a  more  characteristic  aspect.  They  remind  us 
less  of  England,  of  the  Rhine,  of  the  Campagna,  or  what  not,  and 
more  of  America  —  of  something  that  we  can  never  find  abroad. 
Meanwhile,  our  mountains,  after  the  fashion  of  high  things,  have 
always  been  individual.  There  is  nowhere  in  the  world  such 
another  heaven-scaHng  crag,  with  its  feet  in  the  deep  sea,  as  Web- 
ster :  nor  so  pure  a  summit,  sublime  with  transcendental  snows. 


X  INTRODUCTION. 

as  Emerson :  nor  anything  to  match  that  enchanted  height,  dim 
with  fairy  mists,  and  near  and  remote  as  the  rainbow,  that  is 
Hawthorne.  As  for  Frankhn,  he  is  a  sort  of  table-land,  a  conti- 
nent above  a  continent ;  perambulating  which  we  do  not  realize 
our  elevation,  till  we  come  to  the  brink. 

The  fact  nevertheless  remains  that  modesty  best  befits  our 
present  "Hterary  predicament.     The  potential  is  not  the  actual ; 

\  the  acorn,  though  it  be  the  source  of  the  oak,  is  but  an  acorn ; 

'  and,  because  our  Uterature  looks  healthy  in  embryo,  we  are  not 
to  speak  of  it  as  if  it  were  anything  more  than  embryonic.  We 
have  accomplished  less  in  literature  than  in  any  other  branch  of 
human  effort.  A  shipwrecked  mariner,  cast  upon  a  desert  island, 
and  obliged  to  wring  his  subsistence  from  the  hand  of  savage 
Material  de-  ^lature,  does  not  begin  by  writing  an  epic,  a  novel 
velopment  or  even  a  philosophic  history.  These  things  will  be 
written  about  him,  a  thousand  years  hence,  by  his 
posterity.  The  intellect  which,  among  us,  now  chooses  its  field 
of  work  with  so  much  success  in  commerce,  in  manufacture,  in 
science  or  in  pohtics,  —  things  immediately  essential  to  the  de- 
velopment of  our  country  and  people,  —  might,  under  settled  and 
mature  conditions,  have  achieved  corresponding  triumphs  in  Htera- 
ture.  And  the  day  for  such  achievements  will  doubtless  come ; 
but  we  will  not  seek  to  anticipate  it,  for  eminence  in  letters  seldom 
comes  to  a  nation  until  its  eminence  in  other  respects  has  begun 
to  decline. 

Literature  as  one  of  the  fine  arts  is  less  than  a  century  old  with 
us ;  for  although  much  that  Franklin  wrote  has  in  it  that  quality 
Pure  Utera-  ^^  modernness  that  is  one  of  the  surest  literary  tests, 
turebuta  yet  his  aim  was  always  practical  or  didactic.  Irving 
century  old.  ^^^  almost  the  first  of  our  writers  to  cultivate  Utera- 
ture for  its  own  sake.  The  productions  of  our  colonial  period 
can  be  called  literature  by  courtesy  only."  They  consist  of  his- 
torical and  geographical  memoranda,  and  of  theological  essays 
and  arguments.  The  Revolutionary  era  is  rich  in  speeches,  proto- 
cols and  declarations,  often  elevated  in  sentiment  and  massive  in 
thought,  but  dyed  in  the  passionate  hues  of  patriotism  and  parti- 


INTR  on  UCTION.  XI 

sanship,   and   necessarily  lacking   the   repose   and   balance   that 

belong  to  pure  literature.    The  voice  of  Charles  Brock- 
j        Ti  .u   .     r  ••       1  -1  1         The  outline, 

den  Brown  was  as  that  of  one  crying  m  the  wilder- 
ness ;  his  lungs  were  strong,  and  his  will  good,  but  his  tones  were 
unmodulated,  broken  and  discordant.  Irving  was  the  first  to 
discover  a  native  vein,  and  in  his  Knickerbocker  and  Catskill 
legends  he  worked  it  to  admirable  effect.  Cooper  chose  the 
Indians,  and  the  sea  in  war;  Herman  Melville,  with  an  unsur- 
passed fascination  of  manner,  told  of  sea  Hfe  in  peace.  Then 
Emerson,  Hawthorne,  Longfellow,  Lowell,  Holmes  and  the  rest 
ushered  in  the  present  generation. 

Up  to  this  point,  the  divisions  of  periods,  schools,  styles  or 
phases  are  practically  the  same  in  all  manuals  and  histories  of 
literature.  It  is  with  the  contemporary  and  all  but  contemporary 
writers  that  divergences  of  classification  begin.  A  great  deal  has 
been  said  on  this  subject,  and  with  sufficient  emphasis.  However 
comparatively  moderate  may  be  the  value  of  American  literature, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  it  has  been  immoderately  gossiped  about. 
Sidney  Smith  began  it  with  his  famous  interrogation,  and  the  din 
of  criticism  and  defence  has  been  growing  ever  since.  We  have 
heard  of  sweeping  condemnations,  often  unjust;  we  The  method 
have  given  ear  to  vociferous  eulogies,  generally  foolish.  °^  grouping. 
"  Schools "  have  been  detected,  where  none  existed ;  geniuses 
have  been  proclaimed,  where  there  were  only  ingenious  echoes 
or  showy  charlatans  :  "  tendencies  "  have  been  discovered,  which 
ended  in  a  cul-de-sac:  there  has  been  here  and  there  a  bit  of 
log-rolling,  and  now  and  then  a  note  of  spite  or  jealousy.  Mean- 
while, the  supply  of  writers  has  been  constantly  augmenting  — 
though  of  persons  who  ought  to  write  the  number  is  now,  as  it 
aver  has  been  and  probably  always  will  be,  very  small.  But  the 
genuine  voice  is  not  certain  to  be  the  most  widely  heard,  at  first ; 
and  the  very  elect  among  literary  detectives  may  sometimes  be 
deceived  by  specious  counterfeit.  Time  is  needed  to  develop  a 
true  perspective,  and  to  starve  out  the  fat  impostors.  Contempo- 
rary judgments  are  sure  to  involve  some  errors ;  the  best  course 
seems  to  be,  first  to  adopt  a  sound  but  not  too  rigid  method  of 


xii  INTR  OD  UCTION. 

grouping ;  and  secondly,  to  pick  out  such  illustrative  figures  as 
shall,  upon  impartial  consideration,  appear  most  nearly  representa- 
tive and  graphic.  The  plan  is  readily  formulated;  but  rightly 
and  conscientiously  to  carry  it  out  is  not  easy. 

Literary  groups  are  likely  to  be  engendered,  not  by  the  personal 
idiosyncrasies  of  any  single  writer,  however  eminent,  but  by  the 
features  and  conditions  of  the  land  and  period  in  which  the  writ- 
ing is  done.  We  might  expect  to  find,  for  example,  a  Civil-War 
group.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  though  war  histories  have  been  abun- 
dant, war  novels  have  been  few,  and  war  poetry  not  important. 
But  the  histories,  useful  as  material,  are  scarcely  literature;  no 
history  of  the  war  has  appeared  that  is  final  or  philosophic.  The 
novels  may  come  later,  when  time  has  merged  the  memory  of  the 
struggle  in  a  richer  atmosphere,  and  has  healed  its  wounds.  Again, 
we  may  look  for  a  class  of  minds  who  will  find  a  congenial  Hterary 
topic  in  the  negro  —  his  humorous,  pathetic,  dialectal,  religious 
and  political  phases.  And,  in  truth,  this  field  has  been  ardently 
and  even  fanatically  worked ;  it  might  with  advantage  be  allowed 
to  He  fallow  for  a  season  or  two.  Once  more,  men  like  Bret  Harte 
and  Joaquin  Miller  will  find  their  inspiration  in  frontier  scenes  and 
episodes;  others,  like  James,  will  apply  to  society  themes  the 
stimulus  of  international  comparisons ;  others  will  seek  inspiration 
among  politicians,  social  reformers,  and  labor- agitators ;  and  still 
others,  in  company  with  Mr.  Howells,  will  strive  by  patient  dissec- 
tion and  refined  comment  to  give  value  to  the  commonplace  and 
the  vulgar.  To  counterbalance  these,  there  will  be  a  group  whose 
choice  of  a  subject  is  conditioned  mainly  by  its  imaginative  or 
dramatic  promise ;  and  another  who  rejoice  in  subjective,  intro- 
spective, esoteric  and  transcendental  studies.  Then  there  will 
always  be  the  sad- eyed  army  of  humorists ;  and  the  poets  and  the 
naturalists  —  the  Thoreaus  and  Burroughses,  who  ensconce  them- 
selves under  Nature's  wing,  and  divide  their  time  between  extolUng 
her,  and  criticising  civilization.  In  short,  each  aspect  of  national 
activity  and  circumstance  will  attract  its  special  knot  of  investi- 
gators and  devotees,  and  each  newly  hatched  author  will  betake 
himself  to  the  one  or  the  other,  as  his  innate  sympathies  dictate. 


INTR  OD  UC  TION.  xiii 

A  classification  upon  this  principle  seems  natural,  and  has  other 

manifest  advantages.     The  principle  is  of  permanent  application  : 

as  long  as  the  national  feature  exists,  there  will  the  ^  natural 

writers  be  gathered  together.     It  is  a  principle  which  ciassifica- 

will   become    more  comprehensive    the   lonerer   it   is  *^°^/f<>P" 
^  °  posed  to  an 

applied ;  for  the  tendency  of  all  human  activity  is  artificial 
towards  specialistism ;  and  writers  will  be  impelled  to  *^^®' 
devote  themselves  to  particular  lines  of  work,  not  only  by  natural 
preference,  but  by  condign  necessity ;  competition  is  already  so 
great  that  nothing  short  of  special  fitness  can  secure  employment. 
It  is  a  principle,  therefore,  in  accord  with  the  law  of  evolution, 
which  is  not  the  case  with  such  artificial  classifications  as  that 
which  specifies  a  "  Realistic  School,"  a  "  Concord  School,"  and  so 
forth.  There  will  always  be  writers,  no  doubt,  who  produce  work 
in  more  fields  than  one ;  but  even  they  will  survive  in  their  best 
work  only,  and  that  will  easily  be  assigned  to  its  proper  place. 
And  again,  there  will  be  isolated  individuals  who  have  no  obvious 
affiliations,  the  beauty  of  whose  genius  is  its  own  excuse  for 
being.  They  may  safely  be  left  to  themselves ;  there  will  never 
be  so  many  of  them  as  to  create  confusion. 

Having  adopted  our  classification,  the  next  step,  as  we  have 
said,  is  to  concentrate  attention  upon  those  writers  in  each  group 
who  embody  in  the  fullest  degree  its  proper  characteristics.  The 
others  may  be  no  less  meritorious  from  the  point  of  view  of 
literary  workmanship ;  but  in  an  elementary  text-book  such  as 
this,  where,  out  of  a  hundred  names,  but  one  can  be  mentioned, 
that  one  must  be,  first  of  all,  characteristic  :  study  of  ^^^  .^^ 
him  must  be  study  of  the  general  traits  of  his  group,  with  each 
The  strictest  and  most  systematic  process  of  exclusion  ^^^^' 
is  indispensable  to  a  clear  conception  of  the  quality  and  drift  of 
our  contemporary  literature.  To  attempt  anything  approaching 
a  large  familiarity  with  it,  would  be  worse  than  futile.  The  value 
of  the  whole  body  of  American  literature  is  (as  we  have  already 
intimated)  but  moderate  :  and  although  every  school  pupil  in  this 
country  should  know  something  —  and  know  it  accurately  and 
systematically  —  about  our  representative  writers  and  their  books  ; 


xiv  INTRODUCTION. 

and  though  they  should  give  the  subject  an  examination  fuller 
than  foreign  schools  would  demand,  —  yet  the  sense  of  propor- 
tion must  not  be  lost.  Our  writers  have  contributed  but  a  fraction 
to  the  world's  sources  of  culture ;  and  if  we  would  avoid  the 
crippling  of  provincialism,  we  must  not  only  concede  this  fact 
theoretically,  but  practically  act  upon  it. 

Let  the  student  bear  it  in  mind,  then,  that  the  surest  way  to 
enhance  the  prosperity  of  American  Hterature  in  the  future,  is  to 
The  test  to  submit  it,  now,  to  the  severest  tests.  A  high  standard 
be  applied.  —  ^-^g  highest  —  is  imperative.  Boys  and  girls  now 
at  school  will,  a  few  years  hence,  furnish  material  for  a  new  gener- 
ation of  American  authors.  Let  them  study  this  manual,  not  for 
the  glorification  of  home  products,  but  to  realize,  by  learning 
what  has  been  done,  how  much  remains  to  do.  The  purest 
patriotism  is  the  most  exacting ;  let  us  prove  our  faith  in  the 
literature  of  this  continent  by  refusing  to  be  satisfied  with  less 
than  perfection.  Perfection  can  never  be  reached ;  but  we  can 
always  climb  towards  it.  Literatures,  and  manuals  of  literature, 
come  and  go ;  but  all  are  of  no  avail  unless  the  human  mind, 
Divinely  endowed,  vindicates  its  birthright  by  aiming  at  a  loftier 
and  broader  culture  than  the  world  has  yet  known. 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE. 


'^««c 


COLONIAL   LITERATURE. 

As  THE  physical  analysis  of  the  Universe  begins  with  protoplasm, 
so  must  intelligent  study  of  a  literature  begin  with  examination 
of  the  inchoate  material  upon  which  the  literature  is  based. 

Literature  in  the  higher  sense  is  a  criticism  of  life.     But  the 

Colonial  days  of  America  were  days  of  action,  not  of  thought 

about  action.     The  men  who  crossed  the  sea  in  quest  The  condi- 

of  civil  and  religious  liberty,  came  not  to  write,  but  to  ^*°^*  *^* 

the  charac- 
do.     Two  subjects  occupied  them,  —  the  Fear  of  God,   terof  the 

and  the  Conduct  of  the  Colony.  Such  things  as  they  beginning:, 
wrote  either  told  the  bald  story  of  their  daily  life,  or  discussed 
religion,  or  mingled  the  two.  They  took  up  the  pen  only  in  the 
intervals  of  grasping  the  Bible,  the  sword,  or  the  plough-handle. 
As  literature,  their  productions  are,  in  almost  all  instances,  desti- 
tute of  value.  They  are  tedious,  Ufeless  and  repulsive.  Yet,  if 
you  have  imagination  and  human  sympathy  enough,  you  may 
detect  in  this  protoplasmic  rubbish  the  germs  of  qualities  which, 
in  their  perfect  development,  made  the  genius  of  such  men  as 
Webster,  Emerson  and  Hawthorne. 

The  first  American  writings  are  not  only  not  literature ;  they 
were  not  even  written  by  Americans.     There  were  no  jj^g  ^Q^j-ce 
American  born  people,  except  the  Indians,  in  those  of  our  first 
days.    American   literature,  then,  begins  with  books 
written  about  America  by  foreigners. 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Cbaracter. 


Captain  John  Smith  (15  79-1631)  was  the  first  American  annal- 
ist. He  was  a  daring,  restless,  impetuous  but  shrewd  man ;  of 
imagination  too  warm  and  vanity  too  inordinate  to  allow  of  his 
telling  plain  truth.  He  was  more  quick  to  magnify 
virtue  in  speech  than  to  illustrate  it  by  deed.  But, 
considering  how  easily,  in  those  times,  he  might  have  become  a 
buccaneer  and  pirate,  it  is  to  his  credit  that  he  was  content  to 
remain  an  adventurer,  a  pioneer  and  a  gasconading  chronicler 

and  pamphleteer. 

He  wrote  much  :  but  his  writings 
are  of  less  value  than,  at  the  time, 
were  his  services  in  the  Virginia 
Colony.  Of  the  nine  books  treating 
more  or  less  of  America  we  give  the 
full  titles  of  the  first  two.  It  will  be 
unnecessary  for  the  student  to  read 
more  of  them  than  this  :  and  the  same 
may  be  said  of  nearly  all  the  American 
books  (so-called)  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  They  are  material  for  his- 
tory, not  for  criticism. 

''A  True  Relation  of  such  occur- 
rences and  accidents  of  noate  as  hath  happened  in  Virginia  since 
the  first  planting  of  that  Collony,  which  is  now  resident  in  the 
South  part  thereof,  till  the  last  return  from  thence.  Written  by 
Captaine  Smith,  Coronell  of  the  said  Collony,  to  a  worshipfull 
friend  of  his  in  England.  London,  1608." 
The  second  title-page  reads  as  follows  :  — 
"  A  Map  of  Virginia.  With  a  Description  of  the  Countrey,  the 
Commodities,  People,  Government,  and  Religion.  Written  by 
Captaine  Smith,  sometimes  Governour  of  the  Countrey.  Where- 
unto  is  annexed  the  proceedings  of  those  colonies,  since  their  first 
departure  from  England,  etc.  by  W.  S.     Oxford,  1612." 

Smith's  modern  fame  is  due  chiefly  to  the  romantic  tale  of  his 
connection  with  Pocahontas,  the  daughter  of  the  Indian  chief 
Powhatan.     Whether  or  not  his  account  of  her  rescue  of  him 


Captain  John  Snnith. 


COLONIAL   LITERATURE.  3 

be  true,  is  not  known.  We  shall,  however,  lose  noth-  ThePocahon- 
ing  by  believing  it.  Smith  himself  told  it  so  often  **^  ^^^^' 
that,  whether  really  true  or  false,  it  doubtless  seemed  true  to  him. 
"  It  is  true,"  he  observes  in  one  place,  "  in  our  greatest  extremitie 
they  shot  me,  slue  three  of  my  men,  and  by  the  folly  of  them  that 
fled  tooke  me  prisoner;  yet  God  made  Pocahontas  the  King's 
daughter  the  meanes  to  deliver  me  :  and  thereby  taught  me  to 
know  their  trecheries  to  preserve  the  rest."  Smith  spent  less 
than  three  years  in  America,  including  his  visit  to  the  Isles  of 
Shoals  on  the  New  England  coast ;  but  he  fell  in  love  with  the 
country,  and  always  did  what  he  could  to  advance  its  interests. 

Other  early  Virginia  annalists  are  George  Percy,  William  Stra- 
chey  (whose  account  of  a  storm  that  shipwrecked  him  is,  by 
some,  thought  to  have  been  in  Shakespeare's  mind  ^  ^^,^.  . 
when  he  wrote  "The  Tempest  "),  and  John  Hammond,  minor  writ- 
In  Maryland,  George  Alsop  attempted  a  humorous  ®^*' 
descriptive  work,  part  prose,  part  doggerel.  In  New  York,  Daniel 
Denton  tried  to  stimulate  immigration  by  declaring,  in  his  "  Brief 
Description,"  that  "  If  there  be  any  terrestrial  Canaan,  'tis  surely 
here  !  "  Daniel  Coxe  of  New  Jersey,  taking  a  broader  point  of 
view,  advised  the  union  of  the  English  Colonies  as  a  means 
of  preventing  Spanish  and  French  supremacy.  Gabriel  Thomas 
of  Pennsylvania,  in  his  "  Historical  and  Geographical  Account," 
gives  data  to  show  that  people  squeezed  by  poverty  in  the  Old 
World  might  find  life  easier  in  the  New.  And  John  Lawson  (to 
make  an  end  of  this  dry  catalogue)  found  something  to  say  about 
the  country  and  inhabitants  of  North  Carolina.  All  these  writers 
belong  to  the  first  quarter  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

Meanwhile,  in  New  England,  the  Puritan  chroniclers  were  less 
fruitful.  They  had  come  to  New  England  to  get  spiritual  liberty, 
not  material  profit ;  to  lay  up  treasure  not  on  earth,  ^^^  situa- 
but  in  heaven.  Their  bleak  land  had  no  allurements  tion  in  New 
for  ordinary  emigrants,  and  the  Puritans  cared  not  to  ^^si^^i' 
invite  such.  Moreover,  they  were  too  busy  killing  and  converting 
Indians,  fasting  and  worshipping,  building  and  farming,  to  find 
time  to  write.     They  were  not  of  a  literary  turn  of  mind. 


4  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Nevertheless,  certain  of  them,  perhaps,  recognized  the  histori- 
cal as  well  as  the  religious  significance  of  their  exile  in  the  New 
mstory  of  ^Vorld.  William  Bradford  (1588-165 7),  a  Yorkshire 
Plymouth  yeoman,  sailed  for  Plymouth  in  his  thirty-third  year. 
Plantation.  ^^^  -j^  ^^  ^^^^  y^^j.  ^^g  made  governor  of  the  Col- 
ony. He  was  reelected  to  that  position  some  thirty  times ;  his 
administration  was  both  bold  and  wise,  and  he  was  an  inveterate 
diarist.  His  "History  of  Plymouth  Plantation,"  begun  in  1631, 
was  continued  uninterruptedly  down  to  1646.  It  was  a  day-to-day 
chronicle,  and  is  trustworthy  and  methodical.  His  nephew  used 
his  Ms.  in  compiling  his  New  England  History ;  Thomas  Prince 
(1687-1758)  drew  from  it  materials  for  his  "Universal  History"; 
later,  it  found  its  way  into  the  archives  of  the  Old  South  Church 
in  Boston,  which  was  sacked  by  the  British  in  1776;  and  finally, 
in  1853,  it  was  discovered  in  an  English  library,  and  was  copied 
and  published  in  this  country.  Bradford  was  a  fairly  good  writer, 
and  far  more  modest  than  Captain  John  Smith.  "  I  shall  en- 
devor,"  he  says,  "  to  manifest  [my  subject]  in  a  plane  stile,  with 
singular  regard  unto  ye  simple  tmeth  in  all  things,  at  least  as  near 
as  my  slender  judgement  can  attaine  the  same."  And  his  "  en- 
devor  "  was  successful. 

Edward  Winslow  (1595-1655),  a  fellow- passenger  with  Brad- 
ford on  the  Mayflower,  kept  a  truthful  and  intelligent  journal 
during  the  years  1620  and  162 1,  and  was  the  author 
and  "  Good  ^^  three  other  works  of  a  historical  and  historico-theo- 
Wewsfrom  logical  character.  He  acted  as  diplomatic  agent  for 
j^  ,f^"  the  Colony  to  England,  and  was  thrice  elected  gov- 
ernor. He  died  of  a  fever  in  the  West  Indies  in  1655, 
after  a  somewhat  romantic  and  active  life.  Some  of  Winslow's 
descriptions  show  keen  observation,  as  for  example,  this  of  the 
"Great  Sagamore,  Masasoit "  :  "In  his  person  he  is  a  very  lusty 
man,  in  his  best  years,  an  able  body,  grave  of  countenance,  and 
spare  of  speech ;  in  his  attire  Httle  or  nothing  differing  from  the ' 
rest  of  his  followers,  only  in  a  great  chain  of  white  bone  beads 
about  his  neck;  and  at  it,  behind  his  neck,  hangs  a  little  bag 
of  tobacco,  which  he  drank,  and  gave  us  to  drink.      His  face 


COLONIAL  LITERATURE. 


was  painted  with  a  sad,  red-like  murrey,  and  oiled  both  head  and 
face,  that  he  looked  greasily." 

The  "History  of  New  England  from  1630  to  1649,"  by  John 
Winthrop   (1587-1649),  first  governor  of  Massachusetts,  and,  in 
1643,  president  of  the  United  Colonies  of  New  England,  is  less 
readable  than  Bradford's  record,  but  is  rhetorically  its 
superior.      Winthrop  was  of  a  somewhat  aristocratic   ™*^^*^*^^  °^ 
temper,  but  firm  and  wise  ;  a  magnanimous  and  faithful 
man.     He  was  accused  of  undue  exercise  of  power ;  but  he  was 
vindicated  from  the  charge,  and  his  speech  on  that  occasion  (1645) 
is  strong  and  able.    He  reminds 
the  people  that,  by  electing  him 
to  his  office,  they  had  invested 
him  with  a  measure  of  Divine 
authority.     Yet  a  magistrate  is 
a  man  of  like  infirmities  as  other 
men.     He  covenants  to  govern 
according    to    God's    law   and 
man's,  to  the  best  of  his  skill. 
But  if  his  skill  prove  inadequate, 
that  is  the  electors'  fault,  not  his. 
Only  if  the  evil  be  in  his  will, 
can  it  be  required  of  him.    Lib- 
erty is  of  two  kinds,  natural  and 
civil.     "  If  you  stand  for  some 

natural  corrupt  liberties,  and  will  do  what  is  good  in  your  own 
eyes,  you  will  not  endure  the  least  weight  of  authority  .  .  .  but 
if  you  will  be  satisfied  to  enjoy  such  civil  and  lawful  liberties, 
such  as  Christ  allows  you,  then  will  you  quietly  and  cheerfully 
submit  unto  that  authority  which  is  set  over  you  for  your  good. 
...  So  shall  your  liberties  be  preserved,  in  upholding  the  honor 
and  power  of  authority  amongst  you."  Sentiments  like  these  have 
not  yet  become  antiquated. 

In  1637,  one  Thomas  Morton,  known  to  history  as  Morton  of 
Merry  Mount,  published  "The  New  England  Canaan,"  a  book 
written  in  antagonism  to  the  Puritan  sentiment,  and  in  sympathy 


John  Winthrop. 


6  AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 

with  the  Indian.  Its  statements  are  untrustworthy,  and  its  ani- 
madversions boisterous  and  coarse.  But  Morton  was  a  natural 
reaction  against  the  harsh  bigotry  of  the  New  England  colonists, 
and  his  book  is,  from  that  point  of  view,  as  genuine  as  any  of 
theirs.  He  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  Nathaniel  Morton 
( 1 612-1685),  a  nephew  of  Governor  Bradford's  wife,  and  secre- 
tary of  Plymouth  Colony.  His  "  New  England's  Memorial  "  was, 
as  has  been  already  stated,  based  upon  Bradford's  journal. 

Of  all  the  diarists  of  this  epoch.  Judge  Samuel  Sewall  was  the 
most  diligent  and  the  least  tedious.  He  has  been  nicknamed  the 
Puritan  Pepys,  which  is  to  praise  him  too  much ; 
y^^  *  ®  though,  it  must  be  remembered,  Boston  under  the 
Puritans  was  a  less  inviting  subject  than  London  under 
the  Restoration.  Born  in  1662  and  dying  in  1730,  he  kept  his 
daily  record  for  no  less  than  fifty-six  years.  It  portrays,  by  a 
continuous  series  of  small  touches,  a  complete  picture  of  the  New 
England  of  the  first  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Sewall 
was  a  personage  of  weight  and  credit  in  the  community ;  he  was 
thrice  married,  and  his  personal  character  and  habits,  as  they 
develop  before  us  in  the  pages  of  the  journal,  are  attractive  and 
respectable.  He  wrote  other  books,  but  nothing  else  of  perma- 
nent value.  It  is  perhaps  the  only  book  of  the  Colonial  period 
that  can  be  read  through  with  pleasure. 

Next  to  themselves,  the  Indians  were  an  object  of  attention  to 

the  colonists.      Determined  efforts  were  made  to  convert   and 

«,,.  T  AX  civilize  them,  or,  failing  that,  to  kill  them.    The  efforts 

The  Indian  '      '  &  ' 

in  our  early  in  the  latter  direction  were  the  more  successful.  But 
Uterature.  g^^.^^  j^gj^  ^g  Alexander  Whitaker  "did  voluntarily 
leave  their  warm  nests  "  in  England  and  go  forth  to  preach  the 
Gospel  to  the  savages.  Whitaker,  in  his  "  Good  News  from  Vir- 
ginia" (1613),  uttered  an  urgent  call  for  help  from  his  fellow- 
clergymen  in  the  mother  country ;  and  he  lived  to  be  called  the 
Apostle  of  Virginia.  Daniel  Gookin,  superintendent  for  thirty 
years  of  the  Massachusetts  Indians,  incurred  obloquy  by  defending 
some  of  them  during  King  Philip's  War.  He  wrote  two  books 
about  them,  though  they  were  not  published  till  two  centuries 


COLONIAL   LITERATURE.  7 

afterwards.  Captain  John  Mason  and  Colonel  Benjamin  Church, 
Indian  fighters  both,  described  their  adventures  in  writing ;  and 
Mary  Rowlandson  and  John  Williams  told  the  stories  of  their 
captivities  among  the  heathen. 

But  the  noblest  and  most  eminent  friend  of  the  Indian  was  John 
Ehot,  the  Apostle  Ehot  (i  604-1 690).  He  translated  the  entire 
Bible  into  the  Algonkin  language.  "  I  have  sometimes  doubted," 
remarks  Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  "  whether  there  was  more  than  a 
single  man  among  our  forefathers  who  realized  that  an  Indian 
possesses  a  mind,  and  a  heart,  and  an  immortal  soul.  That  single 
man  was  John  Eliot.  .  .  .  Eliot  was  full  of  love  for  them,  and 
therefore  so  full  of  faith  and  hope  that  he  spent  the  labor  of  a 
lifetime  in  their  behalf.  ...  To  learn  a  language  Nathaniel 
utterly  unlike  all  other  tongues  —  a  language  which  Hawthorne's 
!-•  1.  u    J  u         1  i  1       ,      T    -.•  opinionof 

hitherto  had  never  been  learned,  except  by  the  Indians  AposUe 

themselves  from  their  mothers'  lips  —  a  language  never  EUot. 
written,  and  the  strange  words  of  which  seemed  inexpressible 
by  letters  —  first  to  learn  this  new  variety  of  speech,  and  then 
to  translate  the  Bible  into  it,  and  to  do  it  so  carefully  that  not 
one  idea  throughout  the  holy  book  should  be  changed  —  this 
was  what  the  Apostle  Eliot  did.  .  .  .  There  is  no  impiety  in  be- 
lieving that,  when  his  long  life  was  over,  the  apostle  of  the  Indians 
was  welcomed  to  the  celestial  abodes  by  the  prophets  of  ancient 
days  and  by  those  earliest  apostles  and  evangelists  who  had  drawn 
their  inspiration  from  the  immediate  presence  of  the  Saviour. 
They  first  had  preached  tnith  and  salvation  to  the  world.  And 
EHot,  separated  from  them  by  many  centuries,  yet  full  of  the  same 
spirit,  had  borne  the  like  message  to  the  new  world  of  the  west. 
Since  the  first  days  of  Christianity  there  has  been  no  man  more 
worthy  to  be  numbered  in  the  brotherhood  of  the  apostles  than 
Eliot."  It  seems  "  a  grievous  thing  that  he  should  have  toiled  so 
hard  to  translate  the  Bible,  and  now  the  language  and  the  people 
are  gone.  The  Indian  Bible  itself  is  almost  the  only  relic  of 
both."  But  "if  ever  you  should  doubt  that  man  is  capable  of 
disinterested  zeal  for  his  brother's  good,  then  remember  how  the 
Apostle  Eliot  toiled.    And  if  you  should  feel  your  own  self-interest 


8  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

pressing  too  closely  upon  your  heart,  then  think  of  Eliot's  Indian 
Bible.  It  is  good  for  the  world  that  such  a  man  has  lived,  and 
left  this  emblem  of  his  life." 

It  is  needless  to  mention  any  more  of  the  early  chroniclers  ;  they 
may  well  be  left  to  rest  in  their  obscurity.  Yet  we  may  recall  the 
name  of  William  Stith  of  Virginia  (1689-1755),  third  president  of 
VV^illiam  and  Mary  College,  a  minister,  and  author  of  a  ''  History 
of  the  First  Discovery  and  Settlement  of  Virginia."  Jefferson 
(quoted  by  Professor  Richardson)  concedes  him  classical  learning, 
but  says  he  has  "  no  taste  in  style.  He  is  inelegant,  therefore, 
and  his  details  often  too  minute  to  be  tolerable,  even  to  a  native 
of  the  country  whose  history  he  writes.  .  .  .  His  success,"  adds 
Professor  Richardson  kindly,  "  was  not  commanding,  but  it  was 
respectable." 

As  the  consciousness  of  their  peculiar  historical  attitude  led  to- 
a  multiplication  of  diaries  among  the  colonists,  so  the  conviction 
that  they  were,  in  a  special  manner,  under  the  care  and  guidance 
of  God  prompted  to  the  making  of  a  quantity  of  theological 
writing.  The  Puritans  were  governed  in  both  secular 
cal  writers.  ^"^  sacred  affairs  by  a  numerous,  intelligent,  and  mas- 
terful clergy,  who  rejoiced  in  religious  polemics.  But 
the  learning,  zeal  and  force  displayed  by  these  controversialists 
have  not  saved  what  they  wrote  from  becoming  obsolete.  Nothing 
is  of  more  evanescent  interest  than  theological  disputes.  We  of 
this  age  may  be  proud  to  inherit  the  independent  spirit  of  our 
Puritan  ancestors,  but  it  is  the  working  in  us  of  that  very  spirit 
that  has  enabled  us  to  outgrow  their  bigotry.  Let  us,  however, 
glance  at  a  few  of  the  less  intolerable  volumes  bequeathed  to  us 
by  these  venerable  divines. 

A  graduate  of  the  English  Cambridge,  and  for  three  years  an 
incumbent  of  Cambridge  in  Massachusetts,  Thomas  Hooker 
(1586-164 7)  finally  founded,  and  settled  in,  Hartford, 
emstheUst  ^"^  ruled  his  flock  there  with  a  benevolent  tyranny, 
with  Twenty- three  theological  and   religious    treatises   are 

twenty-  ^^^  ^^^^^^  ^^  j^-^  (dispensation  of  fourteen  years,  during 
which  his  iron  lungs  pleaded  with  the  Lord  on  behalf 


COLONIAL  LITERATURE.  9 

of  his  congregation.    His  voice  is  hushed  long  since,  and  his  treatises 
forgotten  ;  but  he  did  his  best,  and  was  useful  in  his  generation. 

A  better-known  Boanerges  was  John  Cotton  (1585-165 2),  who, 
having  been  driven  from  Boston,  England,  by  Archbishop  Laud, 
received  the  compUment  of  having  the  town  of  Trimountain  in 
Massachusetts  re-christened  Boston  in  his  honor.     In  politics,  as 
well  as  in  theology,  he  was  a  power :  he  was  a  sturdy  and  indomi- 
table champion  of  God  and  New  England ;  but  the   _. 
written  rehcs  of  him  that  have  come  down  to  us  are  with  two- 
drier  and  more  barren  than  his  own  mortal  dust.    Out  ^*^°^®' 
of  the  twoscore  works  that  he  produced,  only  a  few  pages  in  the 
'^New  England  Primer"  have  survived  oblivion,  and  the  Primer, 
rather  than  the  pages,  are  to  thank  for  even  this  much  immortality. 

Thomas  Shepard  and  Urian  Oakes  were  smaller  copies  of  Cotton. 
The  first  is  remembered  because  Jonathan  Edwards  quoted  from 
him,  and  the  other  is  credited  by  Professor  Tyler  with  "  the  most 
brilliant  examples  of  originality,  breadth  and  force  of  thought,  set 
aglow  by  flame  of  passion,  to  be  met  with  in  our  sermon  litera- 
ture from  the  settlement  down  to  the  Revolution."  This  is  not 
saying  much,  but  it  is  perhaps  saying  too  much.  The  true  pen- 
dant to  Cotton  was  his  great  opponent,  Roger  Williams  (1606- 
1683). 

Williams  was  a  sincere  and  sensible  apostle  of  a  religious  liberty 
wider  than  the  Puritans  were  ready  to  concede.  In  the  heat  of 
the  conflict  between  them  and  him,  both  sides  no  ^^  apostle  of 
doubt  said  and  did  more  than  Christian  charity  could  true  reUg- 
warrant;  but  Williams  had  in  him  the  spirit  of  the  io'is  Uberty. 
future,  and  that  future  has  rewarded  him  :  he  fought  our  fight  as 
well  as  his  own.  In  stating  the  truth,  and  stating  it  without 
regard  to  the  consequences  to  himself,  no  one  has  surpassed  Roger 
Williams.  Concerning  his  two  works,  "The  Bloody  Tenet  of  Per- 
secution," and  "The  Bloody  Tenet  yet  more  Bloody,"  Httle  in  the 
way  of  literary  eulogy  can  be  said.  They  were  abler  than  the 
pamphlets  of  his  antagonists.  Cotton  and  Fox.  These  forefathers 
of  ours  were  bitterly  in  earnest,  and  were  thus  apt  to  attach  too 
much  weight  to  matters  relatively  unimportant. 


10 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Increase 
Mather : 
ninety-two 
titles  in  his 
list. 


The  Mather  dynasty  was  the  most  noticeable  clerical  phenome- 
non of  early  New  England.  Richard  Mather,  the  founder  of  the 
line,  and  Samuel  Mather,  its  latest  scion,  need  be  men- 
tioned only ;  but  Increase  Mather  and  his  son  Cotton 
were  men  of  larger  calibre.  Increase  (1639-1723) 
was  for  sixty  years  pastor  of  North  Church,  Boston ; 
during  sixteen  years  he  filled  the  office  of  president 
of  Harvard ;  and  the  new  charter  that  he  obtained  for  Massachu- 
setts made  him  the  Warwick  behind  the  gubernatorial  chair.     He 

was  learned,  sober,  and  accu- 
rate ;  and  curiously  bound  up 
in  his  massive  character  was 
a  taste  for  the  supernatural, 
which  found  literary  expres- 
sion in  the  only  noticeable 
work  of  his  that  has  reached 
our  day,  "  An  Essay  for  the 
Recording  of  Illustrious 
Providences."  It  is  a  bun- 
dle of  strange  coincidences, 
escapes,  punishments  and 
ghost-stories,  each  bearing 
an  obtrusive  moral.  The 
book  served  as  a  sort  of  introduction  to  the  Salem  witchcraft 
delusion,  which  ran  its  course  a  few  years  later.  Its  modern 
after-type,  without  the  morals,  is  the  "  Phantasms  of  the  Living," 
recently  published  by  the  Enghsh  Society  for  Psychical  Research. 
Few  men  have  striven  harder  than  Cotton  Mather  (i 663-1 728) 
to  prove  themselves  worthy  of  a  formidable  ancestry ;  and  to  add 
to  his  inherited  responsibihties,  his  maternal  grand- 
father was  John  Cotton.  But  he  was  more  than  a 
match  for  his  burdens.  He  published  over  three  hun- 
dred and  eighty  books  ;  Latin  was  to  him  as  his  native 
tongue  ;  he,  like  Bacon,  took  all  knowledge  to  be  his 
province ;  he  preached  three  and  forty  years ;  he  persecuted  the 
witches ;  he  could  be  theological  in  half-a-dozen  languages,  chiefly 


Cotton   Mather. 


Cotton 
Mather  with 
three  hun- 
dred eighty- 
three  hooks. 


COLONIAL  LITERATURE.  11 

dead  ones ;  he  managed,  patronized  and  dominated  everybody ; 
and  he  was  the  author  of  "  MagnaHa."  This  indescribable  book, 
the  most  widely  read  publication  of  its  day,  is  a  heterogeneous 
and  polyglot  compilation  of  information  useful  and  useless,  of 
unbridled  pedantry,  of  religious  adjurations,  biographical  anec- 
dotes, poHtical  maxims  and  theories  of  education.  It  was  almost 
as  interminable  as  it  was  complicated.  The  author's  aim  in  writ- 
ing it  seemed  to  be  to  exhaust  every  topic  familiar  or  unfamiliar 
to  mankind.  Indeed,  it  contains  everything  except  order,  accu- 
racy, sobriety,  proportion,  development  and  upshot.  Professor 
Richardson,  in  his  "American  Literature,"  quotes  a  whole  page 
from  it.  We  will  quote  one  passage  from  his  quotation.  The 
subject  is  Harvard  College  :  "  Lest  all  the  Hellebore  of  New  Eng- 
land (a  countrey  abounding  with  Hellebore)  should  not  suffice 
to  restore  such  dreamers  unto  their  wits,  it  hath  produced  an 
university  also,  for  their  better  information,  their  utter  confutation. 
Behold,  an  American  University,  presenting  herself,  with  her  sons 
before  her  European  mothers  for  their  blessing.  An  university 
which  hath  been  to  these  plantations,  as  Livy  saith  of  Greece,  Sal 
Gentium ;  an  university,  which  may  make  her  boast  unto  the  cir- 
cumjacent regions,  like  that  of  the  orator  on  the  behalf  of  the 
EngHsh  Cambridge."  Here  follow  six  lines  of  Latin  and  a  sen- 
tence of  Greek ;  but  Mather's  own  English  is  the  most  formidable 
of  the  three. 

Samuel  Willard,  James  Blair  and  John  Wise  were  contempo- 
raries of  Cotton  Mather ;  but  their  achievements  are  not  sufficient 
to  detain  us  here,  though  Professor  Tyler  gives  enthusiastic  praise 
to  Wise's  "  Vindication  of  the  Government  of  the  New  England 
Churches."  The  really  important  figure  of  the  first  half  of  the 
eighteenth  century  was  Jonathan  Edwards  (1703-175  7).  He 
was  a  Yale  graduate,  and  he  devoted  his  literary  career  to  the  ap- 
plication of  philosophy  to  religion.  He  was  precociously  learned, 
and  lived  an  ardently  studious  and  retired  life  ;  he  was  a  Calvinist ; 
indeed,  he  was  more  Calvinistic  than  Calvin.  The  spiritual  cour- 
age with  which  he  developed  Calvin's  theory  is  only  surpassed  by 
the  masterly  and  (as  many  still  think)  the  incontrovertible  logic 


12  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Our  great       that  he  brought  to  its  support.     His  "  Freedom  of 
me^aphysi-      ^j^^  ^yjij  „  -^  ^  i^^^j^  g^^jl  abreast  of  modern  thought, 

though  by  no  means  in  accord  with  prevaihng  modern 
convictions.  While  maintaining  that  the  will  is  not  self-deter- 
mined, he  asserts  that  man  is  responsible  for  his  own  evil ;  and 
that  since  choice  must  precede  a  free  act  of  will,  therefore  the 
freedom  chosen  is  limited  by  the  choosing.  The  dialectical  sub- 
tlety of  his  arguments  is  inimitable,  and  his  language  is  admirably 
succinct  and  lucid.  *'  If  the  will,"  he  says,  "determines  the  will, 
then  choice  orders  and  determines  the  choice ;  and  acts  of  choice 
are  subject  to  the  decision,  and  follow  the  conduct,  of  other  acts 
of  choice.  And,  therefore,  if  the  will  determines  all  its  own  free 
acts,  then  every  free  act  of  choice  is  determined  by  a  preceding 
act  of  choice,  choosing  that  act.  And  if  that  preceding  act  of  the  ^ 
will  or  choice  be  also  a  free  act,  then,  by  these  principles,  in  this 
act  too,  the  will  is  self-determined  :  that  is,  this,  in  like  manner, 
is  an  act  that  the  soul  voluntarily  chooses ;  or,  which  is  the  same 
thing,  it  is  an  act  determined  still  by  a  preceding  act  of  the  will, 
choosing  that.  And  the  like  may  again  be  observed  of  the  last- 
mentioned  act,  which  brings  us  directly  to  a  contradiction ;  for  it 
supposes  an  act  of  the  will  preceding  the  first  act  in  the  whole 
train,  directing  and  determining  the  rest ;  or  a  free  act  of  the  will 
before  the  first  free  act  of  the  will."  This  is  the  Gordian  knot  of 
metaphysics;  not  to  be  untied,  but  to  be  severed  by  the  down- 
right blow  of  common-sense. 

Rhymes  and  verses  are  not  uncommon  in  colonid  literature ; 
true  poetry  is  rare  indeed.     The  mfe^or^ovemoE^BraSstre^was 

our  first  poet,  —  a  Pattern  and  Patron  of  Virtue,  as 
professional  John  Norton  styles  her  in  his  funeral  elegy.  So  she 
poet,  I6I2-      doubtless  was  ;   but  her  epics  and  her  minor  verses 

1672 

are  nevertheless  but  metrical  prose  ;  and  her  opinions 
on  the  universe  and  its  phenomena  are  not  rendered  more  attrac- 
tive by  rhymes.  Michael  Wigglesworth  (i  631-1705)  was  the 
proper  Laureate  of  Puritanism;  his^^Day  of  Doom"  expresses 
the  merciless  bigotry  of  the  sect,  and  describes  with  bloodthirsty 
zest  the  terrors  of  the  Last  Judgment.     "  It  will  continue  to  be    ^  ^ 


COLONIAL   LITERATURE.  13 

read  till  the  Day  of  Doom  itself,"  declared  Cotton  Mather,  look- 
ing up,  for  a  moment,  from  his  "Magnalia";  but  the  day  of  its 
own  doom  passed  long  ago. 

Nicholas  Noyes  was  a  spinner  of  punning  doggerel  and  of  com- 
plimentary verses.  In  1765,  "Juvenile  Poems  on  Various  Sub- 
jects "  was  published  in  Philadelphia ;  and  in  the  same  volume 
was  "The  Prince  of  Parthia,"  a  tragedy,  not  devoid  of  literary  and 
dramatic  merit.  The  author  was  Thomas  Godfrey,  a  Philadel- 
phian;  and  with  his  death,  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  in  1763, 
ends  (with  one  great  exception)  the  record  of  pre-Revolutionary 
literature.     That  exception  is  Benjamin  Franklin. 

^4x^  i^^\j  rJt^-^..^  t-c.^^,  o^^^^^//i^^  ^^:^  '^^-; 


£>  ttin. 


yic^:^<^^ 


14  AMERICAN  LITERA  TURE. 


II. 

BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN. 

A  FAMILIAR  effect  of  striking  events  is  to  distort  historical  per- 
ception. Thanks  to  the  national  transfiguration  wrought  by  the 
American  Revolution,  our  Colonial  period  seems  more  remote 
from  us  than  it  really  is.  It  is  a  measure  of  the  greatness  of  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  (i  706-1 790)  that  he  bridges  the  gulf 
between  the  Colonies  of  the  eighteenth  century  and 
the  United  States  of  the  nineteenth.  Though  he  was  the  charac- 
teristic figure  of  his  age,  we  of  to-day  find  him  as  "modern"  as 
ourselves.  Inasmuch  as  he  embodied  the  leading  traits  of  his 
contemporaries,  he  was  their  representative  ;  but  he  possessed,  in 
addition,  other  qualities,  which  make  him  one  of  the  men  of  all 
time. 

Franklin's  character  contained  the  causes  that  brought  about 
the  Revolution,  and  the  forces  that  made  it  successful.     The  colo- 
A  leader  of     ^^^^^  found  in  him  the  fulness  of  powers  and  tenden- 
the  Revoiu-     cies  that  were  as  yet  only  germinating  in  themselves. 
^^*  He  served  as  the  explanation  of  stirrings  and  impulses 

which  they  could  feel,  but  not  understand.  Looking  back,  from 
our  vantage-ground,  upon  the  colonial  situation  of  the  middle  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  we  easily  perceive  that  their  drift  was 
towards  independence.  But  all  they  were  sure  of  was  that  they 
were  discontented.  To  few  minds  of  the  pre-Revolutionary  epoch 
did  the  vision  of  political  emancipation  unfold  itself;  and  it  is 
doubtful  whether,  but  for  Franklin,  they  would  have  believed  their 
own  ears  or  trusted  their  own  fate,  when  Destiny  struck  the  hour. 
Seeing  Franklin  undaunted,  however,  they  took  courage ;  the 
cheerful  confidence  with  which  he  contemplated  the  plunge  into 
the  untried  abyss,  allayed  their  misgivings.  The  key-note  once 
struck,  to  chime  in  was  easy.     Yet,  had  not  the  Revolution  (as  a 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 


15 


step  onward  in  human  freedom  and  progress)  been,  as  it  were, 
latent  in  Franklin  from  the  first,  its  issue  might  well  have  been 
different. 

His  countrymen  made  all  manner  of  drafts  upon  his  intelli- 
gence, experience,  manhood  and  patriotism ;  and  he  promptly 
honored  them  all.  He  answered  all  appeals  with  answers  of  the 
pithiest  and  most  practical  stamp.  His  attitude  towards  them 
was  like  that  of  a  benevolent  pedagogue  to  his  pupils.  He  told 
them  what  was  best  to  do ;  he  would,  if  they  desired  it,  take  oft 
his  coat  and  do  it  for  them  him- 
self. If  they  disbeHeved  or  diso- 
beyed him,  he  smiled  with  humor- 
ous compassion,  foreseeing  the  rod 
that  fate  had  in  pickle  for  them. 
But  he  contrived  often  so  to  veil 
his  advice  as  to  make  it  seem  the 
promptings  of  their  own  intelli- 
gence, —  recognizing  the  truth 
afterwards  formulated  by  Emer- 
son, that  the  way  to  lead  men  is 
to  show  yourself  more  clearly  of 
their  own  opinion  than  they  them- 
selves are.  He  was  too  wise  to 
expect  political  gratitude,  and  too 
independent  to  care  for  it. 

The  great  man  of  a  crisis  knows  what  to  do,   and  does  it. 
Where  others  are  disconcerted,  he  is  at  home ;  he  seems  to  have 
been  through  it  all  before.     He  is  like  a  being  of  a 
superior  sphere,  sent  for  his  sins  to  spend  a  season  on   resources, 
this  earth ;  he  yields  his  feebler  companions  such  aid 
as  they  require,  but  with  the  air  of  the  elder  brother  helping  baby, 
—  he  will  return  to  his  own  higher  affairs  presently.     Not  only  is 
he  equal  to  whatever  emergency,  but  no  demand  seriously  taxes  his 
powers  ;  were  it  necessary,  he  could  do  ten  times  as  much.     Only 
by  his  death  does  he  confess  his  human  Hmitations ;  and  so  broad 
and  vigorous  is  his  life,  it  seems  cut  prematurely  short  even  when 


Benjamin  Franklin. 


16  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

(as  in  Franklin's  case)  his  years  have  considerably  exceeded  three- 
score and  ten.  For  Franklin  was  one  of  those  who  are  larger 
than  their  environment.  He  bore  vast  burdens  smilingly  and 
lightly,  and  achieved  great  things  without,  as  the  phrase  is,  half 
trying.  The  more  we  investigate  him,  the  more  multifarious  and 
indefatigable  appear  his  activities.  There  was  no  part  of  nature, 
or  of  human  nature,  that  he  did  not  touch. 

Goethe,  who  was  born  forty-three  years  after  FrankHn,  and 
lived  to  nearly  as  great  an  age,  has  been  called  "  the  many-sided." 
The  title  no  less  aptly  fits  FrankHn.  Between  him  —  the  self- 
made,  self-educated,  practical  man  —  and  Goethe,  the  poet,  to 
whom  fortune  gave  all  things,  an  interesting  parallel  might  be 
drawn.  It  is  to  our  immediate  purpose  only  to  remark  that 
Goethe  studied  and  wrote,  but  (in  the  active  sense)  did  nothing ; 
whereas  Franklin's  career  was  all  action;  what  he  wrote  being 
merely  incidental  and  ancillary  to  his  activity.  Goethe's  fame 
and  ambition  were  literary ;  Franklin  had  no  ambi- 
amMtlon^  tion  whatever,  beyond  satisfying  his  own  curiosity  and 
conscience.  Literary  distinction,  at  all  events,  was 
so  far  from  being  among  his  cravings  that  he  never  signed  his  own 
name  to  anything  written  for  publication.  For  all  he  cared,  the 
world  might  to  this  day  be  ignorant  that  he  ever  wrote  a  line. 

Nevertheless,  Franklin  had   rare  literary  gifts.      He  could  so 

marry  words  to  things  as  to  make  them  seem  one ;  he  expressed 

positive  thoughts  and  emotions,  without  ornament  or  amplification  ; 

his  style  was  the  true  reflection  of  his  intellectual  and 
His  style.  ,  ^^  ,       ^         »         • 

moral  stature.     He  was,  it  is  true,  the  first  American 

to  cultivate  the  art  of  literary  phrasing ;  but  this  was  an  instinct 

of  his  temperament,  which  loved  pith,  point,  clearness  and  homely 

symbolism.     Where  one  man  would  observe  that  "  It  is  best  to 

make  good  use  of  another's  folly,"  Frankhn  said,  "  Fools  make 

feasts,  and  wise  men  eat  them  " ;  and  again,  instead  of  wagging 

his  jaws  to  grind   out  such  a  platitude   as  "  Bad  hours   and  ill 

company  have  ruined   many  fine  young  people,"  he  drops  the 

short,   sharp   hint,    "The   rotten   apple   spoils   his   companion." 

These  are  little  things,  but  they  mark  the  vast  difference  between 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  17 

the  thinking  and  the  unthinking  mind,  —  between  the  eye  that 
can  detect  analogies  in  things  outwardly  diverse,  and  bind  the 
universe  together  with  cords  of  sympathy  and  understanding,  and 
the  eye  that  can  see  only  isolated  facts. 

Humor  was  another  of  Franklin's  literary  gifts,  and  literary, 
in  his  case,  because  it  was  first  personal.  It  was  not 
the  thin,  smirking  artifice  which  is  regarded  as  humor 
by  some  of  our  contemporary  writers,  and  which  is  as  carefully 
studied  as  a  new  dialect  or  a  recondite  title ;  it  was  the  native, 
ineradicable  quality  of  the  man,  the  natural  armor  of  his  strength, 
his  worldly  wisdom,  his  kindly  human  sympathy  and  his  shrewd 
Yankee  insight.  Many  a  portentous  predicament  had  he  faced 
in  his  day,  but  he  was  never  for  a  moment  scared  out  of  his  humor. 
It  forms  the  predominating  flavor  of  his  writings,  which  are  almost 
always  in  earnest,  but  seldom  quite  solemn ;  the  demure  twinkle 
of  the  eye  is  there,  though  the  hasty  or  the  foolish  miss  it.  It 
was  sometimes  a  trifle  broad  for  modern  taste,  but  it  is  of  itself 
enough  to  preserve  his  productions  from  oblivion. 

In  perception  of  character  and  ability  to  portray  it,  he  was 
singularly  expert.  When,  in  1724,  Franklin  was  sent  to  London 
by  William  Keith,  on  a  fool's  errand,  Daniel  Defoe  was  still  alive ; 
Henry  Fielding  was  a  young  blood,  a  year  Franklin's  junior; 
Smollett  was  a  baby  four  years  old,  and  Sterne  a  schoolboy  of  ten. 
Addison  had  died  four  or  five  years  before,  but  Dick  Steele  was 
still  carousing  and  writing  in  the  taverns  of  Fleet  Street,  and  Dean 
Swift  still  lacked  something  of  his  sixtieth  year.  Samuel  Johnson, 
a  clumsy,  obstinate,  scrofulous  youth  of  fifteen,  was  studying  as 
best  he  could  in  Litchfield.  It  is  easy  to  forecast  what  Franklin's 
career  would  have  been  had  chance  brought  him  in  contact  with 
the  literary  brotherhood  of  London  at  that  period.  He  was  only 
eighteen,  and  ready  to  turn  his  hand  to  anything.  In  genius  he 
was  at  least  the  peer  of  any  of  the  men  above  men- 
tioned, and  had  he  setded  down  to  write  novels,  for  jjavebeen. 
instance,  it  is  more  than  likely  that  his  books  would 
have  outshone  and  outvalued  "Tom  Jones,"  "Humphrey  Clinker" 
and  "Tristram  Shandy,"  and  that  the  American  colonists  might 


18  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

have  claimed  the  honor  of  producing  the  greatest  painter  of  human 
character  since  Shakespeare.  But  it  so  happened  that  the  Boston 
boy,  during  his  sojourn  in  the  world's  capital,  never  fell  under  the 
glance  of  eyes  capable  of  recognizing  his  royal  endowments.  He 
returned  to  America  after  a  year  or  two,  to  England's  loss  and  our 
gain ;  for  not  only  did  the  mother  country  thus  let  slip  between 
her  fingers  the  man  Franklin,  but  along  with  him,  the  ownership  of 
the  western  half  of  the  world.  If  she  had  offered  the  unknown 
youth  a  sum  of  money  equal  to  half  the  amount  of  her  national 
debt,  on  condition  of  his  never  leaving  her  shores,  she  would  have 
bought  him  ridiculously  cheap.     She  knew  him  better  later  on. 

Meanwhile,  quite  fortuitously,  Franklin  added  several  unforget- 
able  figures  to  the  populace  of  fiction.  He  created  Silence  Dogood, 
and  Busybody,  and  Titan  Pleiades,  and  Miss  Polly  Barker,  and 
Richard  Saunders,  whose  name  has  gone  far,  and  who,  so  ably 
and  consistently  is  he  portrayed,  is  still  by  many  taken  to  be 
Frankhn  himself.  In  truth,  as  a  sensible  critic  has  pointed  out, 
this  is  a  ludicrous  misinterpretation  of  his  large,  bounteous,  and 
benignant  intelligence.  "  Poor  Richard  "  is  lodged  in  but  a  small 
An  inl  n  corner  of  his  mind.  He  is  simply  a  delicious  speci- 
from  E.  P.  men  of  humorous  characterization  in  literature  ;  and 
Whipple.  « j-j^g  groaning,  droning  way  in  which  the  good  man 
delivers  his  bits  of  wisdom  heightens  their  effect,  as  if  he  despair- 
ingly felt  that  his  fellow-rustics  would  disregard  them,  and  have 
their  own  experiences,  insensible  to  the  gasping,  croaking  voice 
that  warns  them  in  advance." 

But  though  Franklin  is  not  to  be  identified  with  Poor  Richard, 
nor  with  Father  Abraham,  nor  with  any  of  his  numerous  literary 
progeny,  yet  he  stands  behind  them  all ;  and  his  own  portrait, 
painted  with  desultory  and  unconscious  touches  through  all  the 
heterogeneous  pages  of  his  works,  is  his  best  contribution  to  the 
world  of  letters.  This  element  of  personal  temperament,  enter- 
ing, as  it  does,  into  all  he  wrote,  brings  all  within  the  boundaries 
of  literature,  properly  so  called,  no  matter  of  how  tran- 
ography!  "  ^^^"^  importance  its  nominal  subject  may  be.  His 
Autobiography  is  the  most  interesting  of  his  works, 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  19 

because  it  is  the  longest :  it  reveals  hardly  more  of  its  author  than 
his  pamphlets,  essays  and  prefaces  do.  Such  as  it  is,  it  has  been 
called  the  best  autobiography  in  the  language,  and,  as  literature, 
equal  to  "  Robinson  Crusoe."  Comparisons  of  this  kind  have 
little  value. 

Great  though  Franklin  was,  he  cannot  be  classed  among  the 
very  highest  order  of  minds.  He  was  destitute  of  the  poetic 
genius,  with  all  that  this  deficiency  implies.  To  Goethe,  poetry 
was  everything  ;  it  was  nothing  to  Franklin.  Want-  He  lacked  the 
ing  that,  he  lacked  the  instinct  of  reverence ;  he  poetic  genius 
was  unspiritual ;  he  was  insensible  to  the  subUme ;  ^^^  ^Je^" 
grace  and  taste  were  not  in  him.  Irreligious  he  was  highest  type 
not,  though  he  was  as  far  as  possible  from  sounding  ®^  ™iii<iS' 
the  depths  of  religious  experience  so  familiar  to  his  contemporary, 
Jonathan  Edwards.  He  formulated  a  creed  to  the  effect  that 
there  is  a  God,  that  men  should  help  one  another,  and  that  evil 
will  bring  its  penalties ;  and  a  code  of  moral  rules,  which  is 
really  the  expression  of  the  shape  which  his  practical  experience 
of  vice  had  given  to  Franklin's  character.  Obviously,  there  were 
heights  that  he  could  never  reach  ;  but  he  did  not  disquiet  himself, 
therefore.  He  had  no  yearnings  after  the  unattainable.  He  esti- 
mated himself  at  his  true  value ;  yet,  high  though  this  estimate 
must  inevitably  have  been,  he  was  both  ostensibly  and  actually 
one  of  the  most  modest  of  men.  The  reason  doubtless  was  that, 
while  recognizing  his  comparative  superiority  in  knowledge  and 
power  over  those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  he  realized  none 
the  less  his  own  (and.  all  other  men's)  absolute  insignificance. 
Moreover,  the  complexities  of  his  mind  and  character  resulted, 
under  the  criticism  of  his  austere  self-culture,  in  a  noble  simplicity, 
with  which  any  form  of  vanity  was  incompatible. 

Few  men  have  lived  so  full  a  hfe  as  he.     Born  the  son  of  a  poor 
candle-maker  in  Boston,  after  two  years'  schooling,  and  two  more 
in  his  father's  shop,  where  he  read  what  books  he  could 
get  hold  of,  he  was  bound  apprentice  at  the  age  of  ^^^ 
twelve  to  his  brother  James,  a  printer ;   and    by  the 
time  he  was  fifteen,  he  was  writing  the  *'Dogood  Papers"  in  "The 


20  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

New  England  Courant,"  modelling  his  style  on  that  of  Addison. 
A  quarrel  with  his  brother  caused  him  to  go  to  Philadelphia,  and 
there  (after  the  short  trip  to  London  already  mentioned)  he 
started  a  printing-office,  estabhshed  the  "  Pennsylvania  Gazette," 
and  finally,  in  1732,  began  to  issue  "Poor  Richard's  Almanac." 
Ten  years  later  his  political  life  began :  he  wrote  pamphlets  and 
essays  on  the  burning  questions  of  the  day ;  and  by  the  time  he 
was  forty-two,  he  had  founded  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  sold 
his  printing-house  and  newspaper,  acquired  a  comfortable  com- 
petence,'and  became  interested  in  the  study  of  electricity.  He 
had  lived  just  half  his  life,  and  now  his  name  began  to  be  heard 
beyond  the  limits  of  his  own  country. 

PoHtics,  science  and  diplomacy,  turn  and  turn  about,  occupied 
the  rest  of  his  career.  He  pleaded  his  country's  cause  abroad ; 
fought  the  malcontents,  persuaded  the  stupid  and  encouraged  the 
faint-hearted  at  home  ;  was  insulted,  slandered  and  idolized  ;  wrote 
satires,  protocols,  addresses  and  catechisms  ;  analyzed  the  hghtning, 
invented  the  lightning-rod  and  the  stove  ;  and  at  length,  on  the  out- 
break of  the  Revolution,  was  sent  as  ambassador  to  France,  whither 
his  fame  had  preceded  him.  The  value  of  his  services  to  the  strug- 
gling Colonies  while  in  that  position  can  never  be  estimated ;  his 
sagacity,  his  tact,  his  unswerving  purpose  and  patriotism,  the  unstud- 
ied dignity  and  charm  of  his  manners,  were  only  less  effective  than 
the  armies  of  Washington  in  bringing  the  war  to  a  fortunate  close. 

In  1785,  Congress  reluctantly  permitted  him  to  return  from 
France  to  the  country  he  had  done  so  much  to  create  and  pre- 
serve :  he  was  then  in  his  eightieth  year.  Europe  followed  him 
with  farewells  and  compliments ;  America  welcomed  him  with 
triumphs  and  celebrations.  He  was  the  "  Friend  of  Man,"  the 
"  Father  of  American  Independence."  He  was  made  President 
of  the  Commonwealth  of  Pennsylvania.  His  name  was  already 
signed  to  four  of  the  most  important  documents  of  the  century,  — 
the  Declaration  of  Independence,  the  Treaty  of  Alliance,  the 
Treaty  of  Peace  and  the  Constitution.  He  had  been  faithful  and 
successful  in  all  the  duties  of  Hfe.  His  essays,  his  apothegms  and 
his  Autobiography  will  never  be  effaced  from  the  pages  of  Ameri- 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN.  21 

can  literature.  In  his  inventiveness,  thrift,  common  sense  and 
practicaUty  he  started  out  as  the  primal  Yankee.  He  was  more 
different  kinds  of  a  great  man  than  any  other  American  before  or 
since  his  time.  His  character  is  still  the  prototype  of  our  most 
solid  virtues.  Few  men  in  their  lifetime  have  been  so  honored  as 
he ;  and  the  century  that  has  elapsed  since  his  death  has  but 
deepened  and  broadened  the  respect  and  affection  inspired  by 
the  memory  of  Benjamin  Franklin. 


22  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


III. 
THE   REVOLUTIONARY   PERIOD. 

The  American  Revolution,  so  far  as  overt  acts  of  war  were 
concerned,  began  in  1775,  ^^^  was  over  in  1783.  But  its  direct 
effect  upon  American  literature  was  not  restricted  to  those  seven 
years.  Thoughtful  men  had  been  looking  forward  to  some  such 
event,  and  recording,  in  speech  or  writing,  their  views  and  specu- 
lations thereupon,  long  before  it  actually  came  to  pass.  And  after 
peace  had  been  declared  with  England,  the  patriotic  soldiers  and 
statesmen  who  had  carried  the  country  safely  through  its  perils, 
still  lived  to  mould  and  administer  its  government.  We  shall  be 
within  bounds,  therefore,  in  specifying  as  the  Revolutionary  period 
of  our  literature  the  last  thirty  years  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  war  itself  afforded  just  cause  for  a  high  level  of  thought 
and  utterance.  Its  leaders  were  uniformly  men  not  personally 
or  selfishly  ambitious,  but  actuated  by  a  sincerely  disinterested 
passion  to  benefit  their  country,  and  to  vindicate  hu- 
th^iTaders**  "^^^  rights.  They  were  also  men  of  education  and 
of  the  enlightenment  —  not    demagogues,   nor   adventurers. 

American  j^^  these  respects  they  contrast  favorably  with  many 
of  the  prominent  figures  of  the  English  and  the  French 
Revolutions.  Such  persons  as  Washington,  Jefferson,  Adams  and 
Hamilton  would  have  commanded  honor  and  respect,  even  had 
there  been  no  accidental  causes  forcing  them  to  fame  and  glory. 
The  trials  of  national  adversity  showed  them  adequate  to  the 
demands  made  upon  them :  nor  did  they  cope  less  successfully 
with  the  yet  more  difficult  problems  that  presented  themselves 
after  the  outside  perils  were  past.  The  motives  which  precipi- 
tated the  Revolution  were  pure  and  lofty ;  and  its  results  have 
been  such  as  to  command  the  homage  of  the  world. 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD.  23 

But  Stirring  events  are  not  necessarily  synchronous  with  notable 
achievements  in  literature.  The  more  strongly  human  energy  is 
stimulated,  in  a  given  state  of  things,  in  one  direction,  the  less  are 
apt  to  be  its  activities  in  other  directions.  Accordingly,  we  find, 
during  the  period  now  under  consideration,  that  very  little  pure 
literature  was  produced  in  America.  There  were  more  good 
speeches  than  good  writings ;  and  our  knowledge  of 
these  speeches  is  derived  mainly  from  fragmentary  aWetJthe 
hearsay  reports,  the  modern  art  of  short-hand  report-  writing: 
ing  not  being  at  that  time  in  operation.  The  writings,  ^^grature. 
again,  are  for  the  most  part  strongly  political ;  they 
are  important  for  the  ideas  expressed  rather  than  for  the  manner 
of  the  expression.  They  attracted,  no  doubt,  wider  attention 
than  any  previous  American  literary  productions  :  but  it  was  the 
attention,  not  of  critics,  but  of  statesmen  and  politicians.  The 
department  of  belles-lettres  received  small  cultivation,  and  what 
there  was  of  it  requires  but  the  most  passing  mention.  Notwith- 
standing, in  short,  the  deep  and  world-wide  political  influence  of 
our  Revolution,  the  sum  of  its  contribution  to  letters  (with  which, 
exclusively,  we  are  here  concerned)  was,  with  few  exceptions, 
undeserving  of  serious  study.  The  time  was  to  come,  indeed, 
long  decades  after  the  smoke  of  the  batde-field  had  cleared  away, 
and  the  cannons'  echoes  ceased  to  reverberate,  when  the  heroes 
and  the  events  of  our  conflict  for  existence  should  receive  fitting 
celebration  in  prose  and  rhyme.  But,  for  the  present,  there  were 
other  and  more  urgent  things  to  do  :  the  student,  the  poet  and 
the  philosopher  were  merged  in  the  statesman  and  the  man  of 
action. 

I.  Belles- Lettres.  Charles  Brockden  Brown  (1771-1810). 
Although,  in  point  of  time.  Brown  was  the  latest  of  the  imaginative 
writers  of  this  period,  yet  his  merit  entitles  him  (in  accordance 
with  the  method  we  have  adopted)  to  first  mention.  He  was  by 
birth  a  Philadelphia  Quaker,  of  feeble  physical  constitution,  and 
endowed  with  an  introspective,  impressionable  and  morbid  habit 
of  mind.     He  was  a  romancer  by  temperament  and  predilection  ; 


24  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

but  there  were  in  those  days  no  wealthy  pubHshers  nor  patrons  to 
remunerate  and  encourage  his  genius,  and  the  hasty  productions 
Unfavorable  ^^  ^^^  obhged  to  put  forth  did  less  than  justice  to  his 
conditions  actual  powers.  Hampered  as  he  was  by  ill-health,  pov- 
forwork.  ^^^^^  ^^  small  number  of  readers  (the  population  of 
the  whole  Union  was  but  five  millions  at  the  time  of  the  publica- 
tion of  his  first  romance)  and  the  dearth  of  literary  companions 
and  native  models,  the  chief  marvel  is  that  Brown  produced  any- 
thing at  all.  Yet,  in  addition  to  a  multiplicity  of  other  literary 
work,  he  wrote  in  less  than  four  years  some  half-dozen  novels 
which  are  not  yet  forgotten,  and  which  contain  passages  of  power 
and  imagination  that  not  unworthily  prefigure  the  masterpieces  of 
Poe  and  Hawthorne.  The  best  of  these  is  perhaps  "  Wieland,  or 
the  Transformation,"  pubhshed  in  1 798  ;  then  followed  rapidly 
"  Ormond,"  "  Edgar  Huntly,"  "  Arthur  Mervyn,"  "  Clara  How- 
ard "  and  "Jane  Talbot."  Horror,  mystery  and  psychological 
analysis  are  the  elements  in  which  he  loves  to  deal ;  his  subjects 
are  strongly  conceived  and  ingeniously  designed,  but  the  execu- 
tion is  apt  to  be  inadequate  and  crude,  and  there  is  often  a  lack 
of  art  in  the  management  of  the  plot.  Thus,  in  "  Wieland,"  we 
have  the  father  of  the  hero  killed  by  some  appalling  and  appar- 
ently supernatural  agency,  the  mother  destroyed  by  the  shock  of 
the  bereavement,  Wieland  himself  induced  by  signs  and  omens 
to  strangle  his  wife  and  murder  his  children,  and  finally  to  commit 
suicide.  The  atmosphere  of  the  book  is  full  of  awful  mystery, 
enhanced  by  a  solemn  and  lofty  style.  Yet,  at  the  close,  we  dis- 
cover that  all  these  ghastly  events  have  been  brought 
of  hls^work  ^^out  by  no  more  dignified  agency  than  ventriloquism. 
Such  a  turn  is  fatal  from  the  artistic  point  of  view; 
and  "  Wieland  "  is  but  a  type,  in  this  respect,  of  the  other  ro- 
mances. Brown  took  more  interest  in  his  plots  than  in  his  char- 
acters. The  latter  are  but  the  mouthpieces  and  puppets  of  events. 
The  author's  conceptions  of  human  nature,  its  passions,  powers 
and  frailties,  seem  to  have  been  gained  by  introspection  rather 
than  by  objective  study  and  insight.  He  speculated  on  the  basis 
of  himself,  but  he  had  small  practical  experience  of  the  world. 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD.  25 

His  work,  at  its  best,  is  consequently  narrow  in  scope  even  when 
it  is  most  impressive.  At  its  worst,  it  tends  to  extravagance  and 
bathos.  But  we  must  concede  him  intensity,  originaHty  and 
imagination,  so  combined  as  to  entitle  him  to  the  name  of 
genius. 

Brown  was  precocious  and  industrious.  In  his  early  youth  he 
planned  three  epics,  kept  a  journal,  wrote  essays  and  studied 
foreign  languages.  After  a  season  of  reading  law  in  HisUterary 
his  native  city,  he  composed  a  dialogue  on  the  rights  industry  and 
of  women  called  "  Alcuin,"  and  produced,  besides  his  ^^^*^^*y- 
romances,  a  work  on  "  General  Geography,"  a  number  of  pohtical 
pamphlets,  of  which  that  on  "The  Cession  of  Louisiana"  passed 
through  two  editions,  and  many  minor  poems,  short  tales,  bio- 
graphical essays  and  critiques.  Furthermore,  he  published,  edited 
and  was  the  chief  contributor^to. three  periodicals  :  "  The  Monthly 
Magazine  and  American  Review,"  1799  ;  "The  Literary  Magazine 
and  American  Register,"  1803;  and  the  "American  Register," 
1 803-1 806.  Truly  he  was  a  man  of  letters,  in  the  fullest  sense  of 
the  phrase  ;  and  though  consumption  ended  his  career  at  the  age 
of  thirty-nine,  he  had  his  share  of  the  labor  of  life. 

Philip  Freneau  (i752-i83'2)  lived  to  more  than  twice  the  age 
of  Brown,  but,  with  the  exception  of  one  imaginative  poem,  "  The 
Home  of  Night,"  wrote  nothing  of  more  than  temporary  value. 
But  his  political,  humorous,  and  society  verses  were  vohiminous, 
and,  in  their  way  and  for  their  time,  telling  and  entertaining.  His 
perceptions  were  quick,  his  feelings  lively,  he  wrote  rapidly  and 
heedlessly ;  but  now  and  then  he  struck  a  true'  note  or  expressed 
a  memorable  thought.  He  was  FreiK:h  by  descent,  and  had  the 
versatility  and  sentiment  of  his  race.  Such  men  as  Adams,  Jeffer- 
son, Monroe,  Franklin  and  Madison  were  among  his  friends,  and 
helped  to  render  him  a  conspicuous  figure.  Besides  "  The  Home 
of  Night,"  Freneau's  best  remembered  poems  are  the  "  College 
Examination,"  "  Eutaw  Springs  "  and  "  The  Indian  Student."  His 
"  Lines  to  a  Wild  Honeysuckle  "  are  quoted  by  one  of  his  critics 
as  an  example  of  sincerity  and  delicacy. 


26  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Francis  Hopkinson  (173  7-1 791),  by  his  "Battle  of  the  Kegs," 
did  much  to  put  British  pretensions  in  an  odious  and  ridiculous 
light;  and  his  son  Joseph  (i 770-1842)  was  the  author  of  the 
national  ode  "  Hail  Columbia,"  which,  though  devoid  of  literary 
value,  has  fully  served  its  patriotic  purpose. 

John  Trumbull  (i 750-1831)  was  another  poet  of  many  years 
and  limited  talent.  He  is  chiefly  known  by  his  Hudibrastic  poem, 
"  McFingal,"  which  appeared  in  fragments  from  1775  to  1782. 
It  was  immensely  popular  in  its  day,  running  through  thirty  edi- 
tions, and,  as  a  satire  on  the  Tories,  may  be  considered  one  of 
the  forces  of  the  Revolutionary  period.  It  "  sent  the  rustic  volun- 
teers laughing  into  the  ranks  of  Washington  and  Green,"  and  is 
scarcely  inferior  in  vigor  and  humor  to  "  Hudibras  "  itself:  indeed, 
many  of  its  couplets  are  still  quoted  as  from  the  older  poem. 

Timothy  Dwight  (i  752-181 7),  a  descendant  of  Jonathan 
Edwards,  was  the  author  of  a  poem  in  eleven  books  called  "  The 
Conquest  of  Canaan,"  which  is  correct  and  decorous  in  form,  but 
destitute  of  poetic  value.  Dr.  Dwight  was  president  of  Yale  Col- 
lege, a  Latin  scholar,  a  theologian,  and  a  patriot ;  but  a  poet  he 
could  not  be.  His  "Greenfield  Hill,"  a  pastoral,  is  perhaps  less 
dreary  than  his  epic;  his  "America"  and  "The  Triumph  of  In- 
fidelity "  are  unknown. 

Joel  Barlow  (1753-1812)  is  described  as  having  raised  medi- 
ocrity to  colossal  dimensions.  His  "  The  Columbiad,"  an  inter- 
minable epic,  is  perhaps  the  most  stupendous  and  unmitigated 
failure  in  the  annals  of  literature ;  and  it  is  almost  as  pretentious 
as  it  is  worthless.  But  a  mockrheroic  production  of  his  called 
"  Hasty  Pudding "  was  popular  in  its  day,  and  has  lately  been 
reprinted. 

Royall  Tyler  (175 8- 1826)  was  the  author  of  the  first  Ameri- 
can play  ever  acted  in  the  United  States  — "  The  Contrast,  a 
comedy,"  1786.  It  had  some  merit,  and  contained,  among  its 
characters,  the  prototype  of  the  now  familiar  stage  Yankee. 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD.  27 

• 
John   Howard   Payne   (i 792-1852)  wrote  upwards  of  sixty 
plays,  among  them   ''  Brutus,"   which  is  still  remembered.     But 
the  author   of  "  Home,   sweet  Home "  can  scarcely  be    said  to 
belong  to  the  literary  period  we  are  considering. 

William  DUnlap  (i 766-1839)  was  a  voluminous  dramatist, 
now  deservedly  forgotten. 

2.  Moral  and  Theological.  Thomas  Paine  (1737-1809^,  as 
an  exponent  of  religious  views,  had  a  position  in  his  day  some- 
what similar  to  that  of  Robert  IngersoU  with  us.  He  made  a 
determined  and  vigorous  attack  upon  a  faith  of  whose  true  char- 
acter he  was  irremediably  ignorant.  He  was  devoid  of  IngersolPs 
quick  wit  and  poetic  genius ;  but  he  had  his  rough  and  ready 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  his  love  of  destruction,  his  hard 
common- sense,  his  spiritual  color-blindness,  and,  perhaps,  more 
than  his  earnestness.  As  in  Ingersoll's  case,  too,  the  consterna- 
tion which  his  attacks  upon  religion  produced  among  clergymen 
and  church  members  greatly  increased  his  weight  and  importance 
as  an  "infidel."  His  "Age  of  Reason"  is  a  shallow  production, 
but  it  had  its  effect  when  it  was  written.  Religion,  it  need  hardly 
be  said,  sustained  no  permanent  injury  at  Paine's  hands ;  on  the 
other  hand,  his  country  had  reason  to  be  grateful  to  him  for  his 
vigorous  "  Common-Sense  "  pamphlet,  and  his  tracts  on  "  The 
Crisis,"  all  of  which  reached  a  vast  circulation.  It  was  he  who 
said,  "  These  are  the  times  that  try  men's  souls."  In  France  he 
published  a  rejoinder  to  Burke's  criticism  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tionists, called  "The  Rights  of  Man,"  an  able  and  effective  produc- 
tion, which  secured  him  the  ardent  friendship  of  the  French  people. 
The  style  of  his  various  writings  is  simple,  sarcastic  and  powerful. 

3.  Political.     Thomas   Jefferson    (i 743-1826).    After  the 
close  of   the  war,  the  need  of  a  government  strong  enough  to 
raise  revenue  and  conduct  business  was  severely  felt,   jj^g  consti- 
Each  of  the  members  of  the  confederacy  of  states  had  tution  sup- 
a  government  of  its  own,  and  the  National  Congress   ??j.ederal- 
lacked   power   to   control    or    harmonize    them.      A  ist"  papers. 


28 


AMERICAN  LITERA  TURE. 


Thomas  Jefferson. 


meeting  of  representatives  of  all  the  states  was  called,  and, 
after  three  months'  dehberation,  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  was  drawn  up.  Its  appearance  divided  the  people  into 
two  parties,  known  as  Federalists  and  Republicans.     The  former 

supported  the  Constitution;  the  latter 
opposed  it,  and  advocated  greater  inde- 
pendence of  individual  states.  Much 
discussion  followed  :  arguments  in  favor 
of  the  Constitution  were  ably  presented 
by  a  publication  called  "The  Federal- 
ist," written  by  Alexander  Hamilton, 
James  Madison  and  John  Jay.  The 
Constitution  was  ultimately  adopted. 

Jefferson  was  the  most  eminent  and 
influential  man  of  the  party  from  which 
the  Democratic  party  of  our  day  is  de- 
scended. Of  Scotch  and  Welsh  extrac- 
tion, Virginia  was  his  native  state.  He  acquired  a  broad  and 
scholarly  education,  and  had  exceptional  natural  gifts.  He  had  a 
cold,  comprehensive  intellect :  his  nature  was  self- 
contained,  but  persistent.  His  temper  was  equable, 
under  the  control  of  the  will;  in  manner  he  was 
urbane,  conciliatory,  unpretentious,  and  yet  dignified.  There  was 
much  subtlety  in  his  character ;  his  diplomacy  gained  many  ends 
that  force  could  not  have  reached. 

Jefferson  was  preeminently  a  writer.  His  speeches  were  not 
effective,  nor  was  he  strong  in  administration  ;  but  in  the  seclusion 
of  his  study  or  office,  with  a  pen  in  his  hand,  his  power  and 
ability  were  unequalled.  He  was  profoundly  learned 
in  the  theory  and  practice  of  government ;  his  writings 
and  career  show  him  to  have  been  one  of  the  broadest 
and  most  consistent  democrats  of  any  age.  He  wrote 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  in  1776,  the  most 
famous  work  ever  produced  by  an  American  writer.  His  influ- 
ence is  apparent  in  the  moulding  of  the  Constitution,  and  the 
versatility  and  persuasiveness  of  his  genius  are  conspicuous  in  his 


His  charac 
ter. 


A  great  fig- 
ure in  the 
formative 
period  of  the 
nation. 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD.  29 

correspondence.  His  letters,  indeed,  did  much  to  form  and  fur- 
nish forth  the  party  which,  for  fifty  years,  was  dominant  in  the 
country ;  and  to  this  day  the  party  acknowledges  no  authority  so 
great  as  his.  Men  of  mental  calibre  equal  to  his  were  not  to  be 
found,  even  in  that  age  of  able  and  energetic  patriots ;  and  his 
countrymen,  recognizing  the  need  of  a  clear-headed,  far-sighted 
pilot  at  the  helm,  twice  in  succession  elected  him  to  the  highest 
office  in  their  gift.  Although  his  writings  had  no  distinctively 
literary  or  artistic  aim,  but  were  put  forth  to  meet  and  deal  with 
each  occasion  as  it  came,  their  interest  and  value  often  outlasted 
the  circumstances  that  elicited  them ;  and  many  of  them  may 
still  be  studied  with  profit.  His  Autobiography  is  a  lucid  and 
temperate  piece  of  work,  less  captivating  and  characteristic  than 
Franklin's,  but  rich  in  succinct  narrations  and  philosophical  reflec- 
tions. "  I  have  sometimes  asked  myself,"  he  says,  "  whether  my 
country  is  the  better  for  my  having  lived  at  all.  I  have  been  the 
instrument  of  doing  the  following  things,  but  they  would  have  been 
done  as  well  by  others ;  some  of  them  perhaps  a  Httle  better." 

He  ejoes  on  to  enumerate  the  Declaration  of  Indepen- 

Hisownesti- 
dence,  the  Demolition  of  the  Church  EstabHshment,  mate  of  what 

the  Act  putting  an  end  to  Entails,  the  Act  prohibiting  hehadac- 

•  ?  oi  J   .u      A    .  r  .•      •        compUshed. 

importation  of  Slaves,  and  the  Act  for  apportioning 

Crimes  and  Punishments.     These  are  important  services ;  and  in 

default  of  ''some  one  who  might  have  done  them  better,"  the 

American  people  are  grateful  to  Jefferson  for  having  done  them 

so  well. 

John  Adams   (1735-1826).     The   Puritan   temperament  was 

strongly  emphasized  in  this  son  of  Massachusetts,  but  its  fearless 

and  indomitable  energy  was  in  him  addressed  to  poli- 

1     r  ,.    .  XX  ,j  1.        .  A  fearless 

tics  instead  of  to  religion.     He  could  not  be  at  ease  patriot. 

either  in  the  pulpit  or  at  the  bar;    but  the  obvious 
dangers  threatening  his  country  drew  him  to  its  defence  as  inev- 
itably as  the  magnet  attracts  iron.     He  scented  the  battle-field 
afar  off,  and  was  already  arming  himself,  and  shouting  defiance  at 
the  foe,  before  most  of  his  comrades  had  realized  that  any  serious 


30  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

trouble  was  at  hand.  Adams's  brain  was  capacious,  his  nature 
vehement,  his  temper  impatient  and  irritable.  He  seems  to  have 
felt  a  stern  joy  in  battle,  and  to  have  taken  as  much  pleasure  in 
sacrificing  his  personal  safety  and  fortune  for  the  sake  of  the 
public  good,  as  other  men  might  take  in  lining  their  wallets  and 

exalting  their  horns.  The  methods 
and  science  of  government  also  had 
a  strong  attraction  for  him ;  and  he 
acted  a  vital  part  in  the  organ- 
ization, conduct  and  advocacy  of 
democratic  institutions.  The  Revo- 
lutionary period  bears  throughout 
the  deep  stamp  of  his  individuality ; 
and  his  political  insight  often  fore- 
told events  and  prepared  for  emer- 
gencies. As  a  writer,  he  was  copious, 
careful  and  weighty.  His  diary,  kept 
John  Adams.  fj-Qp^    j^^^    ^^    jyg^^  coutains    the 

record  of  many  important  events,  graphically  described  ;  and  his 
private  letters  show  a  largeness  of  view  and  a  force  of  expression 

that  recall  the  style  of  the  historian.  He  was  a  con- 
work.  ^^^^    tributor  to  the  newspapers  of  the  time,  and  was  the 

author  of  several  essays  or  pamphlets  on  matters  of 
public  moment.  English  oppression  had  no  foe  more  resolute 
and  radical  than  he ;  and  when,  in  after  years,  he  was  sent  to 
London  on  a  diplomatic  mission,  George  the  Third  welcomed 
him  with  the  courtesy  of  one  who  recognizes  and  respects  a 
sturdy  adversary.  He  was  successful  in  his  errand,  though  his 
character  was  wholly  opposed  to  the  shifts  and  disguises  of 
diplomacy.  The  style  of  his  writing  is  in  the  main  forcibly  argu- 
mentative, sometimes  rising  to  impassioned  heights  of  rhetoric. 
In  general  usefulness  to  his  country  and  in  the  lofty  purity  of 
his  conduct,  John  Adams  may  take  his  place  beside  Washington. 

Alexander  Hamilton  (175  7-1804)  was  born  in  the  West  In- 
dies, and  came  to  America  at  the  age  of  fifteen.     He  early  acquired 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD. 


31 


the  habit  of  systematically  writing  out  his  thoughts ;  and  during 
his  school  days  he  tried  his  hand  at  poetry,  with  no  memorable 
result.     In  the  midst  of  his  collegiate  course  the  war  broke  out ; 
he  joined  the  army  and  was  taken  on  Washington's  staff.     He  re- 
mained in  the  field  long  enough  to  show  the  possession  of  abundant 
personal  courage,  and  fair  military  ability ;  but  his  destiny  was  to 
be  a  ruler,  not  a  soldier.     In  the  formative  period  that  succeeded 
the  defeat  of  the  British  forces,  he  took  rank  among 
the  greatest  of  the  statesmen  who  laid  the  foundations   genius, 
of  our  government.     Our  national  banking  system,  and 
the  protective  tariff  on  manufactures,  are  policies  of  which  he  is  the 
author.     He  was  the  advocate,  and  in  many  cases  the  originator, 
of  the  principles  upon  which  the  Republican  party  of  our  day  is 
founded.     As  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  under  Washington,  he 
showed  such  wonderful  constructive  power  as  to  win,  years  later, 
from  Webster  a  passage  of  eulogy  that  has  become  famous.     The 
faculties  of  his  mind  were  as  well  balanced  as  they  were  capacious 
and  powerful ;  he  penetrated  to  the  root  of  things,  comprehended 
their  mutual  relations,  and  was  fertile  in  expedients  to  turn  them 
to   the   best   advantage.      No   emer- 
gency found  him  at  a  loss,  and   his 
creative  intellect  brought  victory  out 
of  disaster.      The    symmetry   of  his 
nature   and   the  genuine   modesty  of 
his  character  veiled   the   extent   and 
power  of  his  resources  ;  he  sought  not 
his   own   prosperity,  but   that  of  the 
measures  in  which  he    beheved,  and 
was   careless  though   others   got   the 
credit   of  his   success.      Practical  in 
his   objects    and    clear    in    their    ex- 
pounding, he    conquered    opposition, 
partly  by  lucid  and  temperate  reason- 
ing, and  partly  by  a  magnetic  force  of  intellectual  passion.     In 
his  private  intercourse  he  was  courteous,  gentle  and  winning ;  the 
superior  of  almost  all,  he  desired  to  place  all  men  on  an  equality 
with  himself. 


Alexander  Hamilton. 


32 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


His  fame  as  a  writer  rests  chiefly  on  his  essays  in  the  "  Federal- 
ist," in  support  of  the  Constitution.  His  own  plan  was  for  a 
stronger,  more  centralized  government  than  the  proposed  Con- 
stitution provided ;  but,  the  convention  having  made 
His  papers  ... 
supporting      its  choice,  no   one  was  more  zealous  or  effective  in 

the  Constitu-  urging  its  adoption  by  the  states.  In  support  of  it 
his  fifty-one  "  Federalist "  papers  were  written ;  and 
the  arguments  brought  forward  for  this  purpose,  are,  perhaps,  the 
most  powerful  and  cogent  the  times  produced,  and  have  left  little 
for  subsequent  times  to  add. 

In  construing  the  provisions  of  the  Constitution,  Hamilton 
always  leaned  toward  strengthening  the  federal  power ;  and  always 
opposed  to  him  on  this  ground  stood  his  great  rival,  Jefferson ; 
and  to  these  two  men  more  than  to  others  is  due  the  greatness  of 
the  nation  which  Washington  gave  into  their  hands. 

That  Alexander  Hamilton,  in  the  fulness  of  his  powers,  should 
have  fallen,  practically  murdered,  at  the  hands  of  Aaron  Burr  — 
the  most  evil  and  detestable  name  that  stains  our  early  annals  — 
is  one  of  the  tragedies  of  history. 

James  Madison  (i  75 1- 1836)  was  one 
of  the  great  Virginians  of  his  epoch,  — 
a  graceful,  somewhat  undemonstrative, 
thoughtful  figure,  accused  in  his  lifetime 
The  Father  °^  personal  selfishness  and 
of  the  Con-  political  timidity.  He  did 
stitution.  g^^j^  important  service  in 
shaping  and  defending  the  Constitution 
that  he  was  called  its  "  Father."  He 
was  an  earnest  and  effective  advocate 
of  the  cause  of  religious  freedom.  He 
was  adroit  and  argumentative  :  his  na- 
ture was  colder  than  his  intellect  —  the 
opposite  of  Jefferson's  case.  He  was  moderate,  from  inabihty  to 
throw  his  whole  heart  into  his  work ;  he  perceived  more  than  he 
felt.     The  principle  upon  which  the  Southern  States  based  their 


James  Madison. 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD.  33 

withdrawal  from  the  Union  in  i860  was  first  expressed  by  Madison 
in  the  "Resolution  of  '98,"  drafted  by  him,  and  passed  by  the  Vir- 
ginia Legislature,  declaring  that  the  Federal  Constitution  was  a 
compact  between  sovereign  states,  and  that  in  case  of  a  violation 
of  the  compact  each  party  to  it  had  "an  equal  right  to  judge  for 
itself,  as  well  of  infractions  as  of  the  mode  and  measure  of  redress." 
Madison  wrote   twenty-nine  of  the  "  Federahst  "  papers,  and 
upon  them  is  founded  his  literary  reputation.     His  style  lacks 
imaginative  charm;  it  is  high-sounding  and  mechani-   His'Ted- 
cal  and  sometimes  lacking  in  clearness.     But  there  is   eraUst" 
a  grave  and  well-considered  purpose  apparent  in  many  ^^^^^' 
of  his  papers ;  and  upon  the  audience  he  addressed  they  pro- 
duced a  weighty  effect. 

John  Jay  (1745-1829).  Webster's  comment  upon  Chief- 
Justice  Jay  was,  that  "  the  spotless  ermine  of  the  judicial  robe, 
when  it  fell  on  the  shoulders  of  John  Jay,  touched  nothing  not  as 
spotless  as  itself."  Whipple  remarks  that  "  his  integrity  ran  down 
into  the  very  roots  of  his  moral  being,  and  honesty 
was  with  him  a  passion  as  well  as  a  principle.  A  great  ^^^^* 
publicist,  as  well  as  an  incorruptible  patriot,  with  pro- 
nounced opinions  which  exposed  him  to  the  shafts  of  faction,  his 
most  low-minded  adversaries  felt  that  his  private  and  public  char- 
acter were  unassailable."  He  gave  steady  and  powerful  support 
to  the  constitutional  government,  and  negotiated  the  famous  treaty 
with  England  which  so  excited  the  resentment  of  the  Democratic 
party.  He  was  the  third  and  last  of  the  eminent  trio  who  con- 
tributed to  the  "  Federalist,"  five  of  the  essays  in  which  are  from 
his  pen.  Though  his  mind  was  not  properly  imaginative,  the 
intensity  of  his  sentiments  sometimes  gave  to  his  compositions  a 
quality  of  lofty  imagery.  In  an  appeal  to  the  states  of  the  Con- 
federation, impelled  by  the  depreciated  state  of  the  currency,  and 
the  injuries  wrought  thereby,  he  uses  this  language  :  "  Humanity 
as  well  as  justice  makes  this  demand  upon  you.  The  complaints 
of  ruined  widows,  and  the  cries  of  fatherless  children,  whose  whole 
support  has  been  placed  in  your  hands  and  has  melted  away^ 


34  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

have  doubtless  reached  you;  take  care  that  they  ascend  no 
higher  !  "  Such  words  are  true  Hterature,  though  written  by  one 
whose  energies  were  directed  in  other  than  Hterary  channels. 

Fisher  Ames  (i  758-1808),  though  known  to  us  only  as  a 
political  orator  and  newspaper  writer,  was  one  of  the  most  poetical 
minds  of  his  age.  His  language  avoids  sonorous  and  pretentious 
words,  but  is  rich  in  tropes  and  metaphors,  which  stimulate  the 
A  poetic  attention  and  aid  the  apprehension  of  the  reader.     The 

style  of  simple  words  are  the  result  of  studious  self-control ; 

oratory.  ^^  figurative  expression  is  the  native  temperament  of 
the  man.  The  effect  is  of  power  well  in  the  leash,  and  more  im- 
pressive for  the  restraint.  He  was  a  passionate  Democrat,  and 
the  New  England  FederaHsts  regarded  him  as  their  champion 
advocate.  His  poetic  susceptibility  made  him  quick  to  read  the 
hearts  of  his  audience,  and  his  natural  eloquence  enabled  him  to 
nobly  formulate  their  deepest  convictions.  His  comprehensive 
grasp  of  events  and  ideas  empowered  him  to  clothe  in  a  memor- 
able phrase  a  whole  volume  of  political  wisdom.  But,  with  all  his 
beauty  and  earnestness,  he  lacked  the  massive  individuaUty,  the 
overwhelming  torrent  of  feeling,  the  towering  strength  that  should 
be  within  the  scope  of  the  greatest  statesman.  His  support  of 
Federalism  did  not  save  it  from  decay,  though  it  was  destined  to 
revive  again  in  after  years.  His  speeches  have  a  despairing  note 
in  them,  not  the  rejoicing  assurance  of  the  man  conscious  of 
strength  greater  than  that  of  circumstance.  His  career  had 
no  lasting  influence ;  yet  he  has  a  place  in  the  history  of  our 
literature. 

James  Otis  (i 725-1 783)  was  a  learned  and  affluent  speaker, 
one  of  the  vanguard  of  Massachusetts  orators.  His  speech,  in 
1760,  against  the  writs  authorizing  a  search  for  dutiable 
of  Fire."*  goods,  was  a  brilliant  effort.  Adams  declared  that  it 
gave  birth  to  the  idea  of  American  independence. 
Otis  had  the  voice  and  the  eye  of  eloquence,  as  well  as  the  neces- 
sary mental  qualifications,  and  he  aroused  enthusiasm  wherever  he 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD. 


35 


appeared.  His  private  character  was  marred  by  vanity  and  im- 
periousness,  and  he  developed  eccentricities  which  finally  culmi- 
nated in  insanity.  He  can  hardly  be  termed  a  writer,  and  we 
know  his  speeches  by  the  effects  they  produce  rather  than  in 
themselves.  His  pamphlet  on  the  "  Rights  of  the  British  Colo- 
nists "  is  probably  his  best  literary  production. 


A  Southern 
orator. 


An  ancient 
Puritan. 


Patrick  Henry  (i  736-1 799).  The  fire  and  splendor  of  the 
South  were  in  the  utterances  of  the  Virginian,  whose  awkward 
body  and  country  training  seem  only  to  have  enhanced 
the  effect  of  his  eloquence.  His  speeches  had  an  ex- 
traordinary vividness,  and  no  speaker  of  his  day  is  so 
widely  quoted  in  our  time  as  Henry.  He  expressed  honesty  as 
well  as  passion,  and  strong  practical  ability  lay  behind  his  words. 
He  prepared  the  minds  of  the  people  for  the  inevitableness  of 
war,  and  was  active  in  devising  measures  to  meet  it  when  it  came. 

Samuel  Adams  (i 722-1803),  cousin  of  John  Adams,  antici- 
pated even  the  latter  in  his  perception  of  the  storm  that  was  to 
burst  over  the  Colonies.     "He  was,"  says  Nathaniel 

Hawthorne,  "a  man  of 
great  note  in  all  the 
doings  that  brought  about  the  Revo- 
lution. His  character  was  such,  that 
it  seemed  as  if  one  of  the  ancient 
Puritans  had  been  sent  back  to 
earth  to  animate  the  people's  hearts 
with  the  same  abhorrence  of  tyranny 
that  had  distinguished  the  earUest 
settlers.  He  was  as  religious  as  they, 
as  stern  and  inflexible,  and  as  deeply 
imbued  with  democratic  principles. 
He,  better  than  any  one  else,  may 
be  taken  as  a  representative  of  the 
people  of  New  England,  and  of  the  spirit  with  which  they  engaged 
in  the  Revolutionary  struggle.     He  was  a  poor  man,  and  earned 


uel  Adams. 


36  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

his  bread  by  a  humble  occupation ;  but  with  his  tongue  and  pen 
he  made  the  king  of  England  tremble  on  his  throne."  Samuel 
Adams  had  the  distinction  of  being  the  only  man  excepted  from 
the  amnesty  offered  to  the  patriots  by  England  in  1774.  His 
writings  were  numerous,  but  have  never  been  collected ;  tfiey  are 
to  be  found  in  rare  pamphlets,  and  in  the  files  of  ancient  news- 
papers. But  the  character  of  the  man  is  in  his  words,  as  his  words 
were  the  expression  of  his  acts  and  convictions. 

Josiah  Quincy  (1744-17  75)  died  of  consumption  just  as  the 
war  broke  out,  but  the  enthusiastic  patriotism  of  his  writings  justify 
A  man  who  ^^^  ^^§^  reputation  among  the  youth  of  Massachusetts. 
appealed  to  "To  hope  for  the  protection  of  .Heaven,"  he  said, 
°^®^*  "without  doing  our  duty,  and  exerting  ourselves  as 

becomes  men,  is  to  mock  the  Deity.  However  righteous  our 
cause,  we  cannot,  at  this  period  of  the  world,  expect  a  miraculous 
salvation.  Heaven  will  undoubtedly  assist  us,  if  we  act  like  men." 
These  were  right  sentiments,  and  it  was  in  obedience  to  such  sen- 
timents that  Quincy's  friend  Warren  fell  at  Bunker  Hill. 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  37 


IV. 
PIONEER   PERIOD. 

Irbing,  Cooper,  }Poe> 

The  political  writings  and  speeches  which  we  have  just  con- 
sidered form,  in  the  aggregate,  an  important  and  unique  body  of 

literature.    A  new  nation  was  coming  to  birth,  not, 

Our  country 
like  the  other  nations  of  history,  insensibly  and  un-   the  incama- 

designedly,  but  at  the  deliberate  summons  of  an  tion  of  a 
abstract  moral  and  political  idea.  The  United  States 
"was  the  conscious  incarnation  of  a  lofty  ideal;  and  the  men  who 
conceived  and  formulated  this  ideal,  and,  later,  carried  out  in 
practical  detail  its  various  parts,  were  inspired  even  beyond  their 
natural  genius  to  explain,  justify  and  advocate  the  steps  of  their 
achievement.  Great  emergencies  arouse  men's  latent  greatness ; 
the  need  for  heroism  makes  heroes.  The  stress  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary period  elicited  from  those  who  underwent  it  an  assem- 
blage of  treatises  on  human  rights  and  government  never  surpassed 
in  breadth,  depth  and  freshness,  and  for  the  intellectual  equivalent 
of  which  we  must  go  back  to  the  days  of  Greece  and  Rome. 

But  with  the  first  decade  of  the  nineteenth  century,  the  stress 
was  relaxed,  and  it  began  to  be  possible  to  breathe  some  other 
atmosphere  than  that  of  war  and  politics.     This  was 
the  moment,  in  the  reaction  from  sterner  preoccupa-   ^^^^ 
tions,  for  the  budding  forth  of  a  new  literature  —  a 
literature  having  its  source  not  in  the  world  of  concrete  facts  and 
actual  events,  but  in  that  of  imagination  and  reflection ;  a  litera- 
ture, in  short,  which  should  exist  as  an  end  in  itself,  and  not  as  a 
mere  transcript  of  contemporary  circumstances.     And  it  was  at 
this  moment,  accordingly,  that  the  literature  appeared. 

As  is  apt  to  be  the  case  at  periods  of  renaissance,  it  was  a  vigor- 


38  AMERICAN  LITER  A  TURE. 

ous,  an  independent  and  an  original  literature.  The  writers  who 
began  to  write,  or  who  were  born,  at  the  beginning  of  the  century, 
were  our  leading  writers  in  quahty  as  well  as  in  time.    They  have 

with  them  the  freshness  and  energy  of  the  morn- 
The  dawn.  ■' 

ing.  They  were  the  pioneers,  and  they  inhaled  inspi- 
ration with  the  virgin  atmosphere.  Unhampered  by  "schools," 
undaunted  by  predecessors  and  traditions,  they  dared  to  be 
themselves,  and  rejoiced  in  their  strength.  A  new  era  in  the 
development  of  man  had  commenced,  and  they  were  its  prophets. 
Nothing  produced  by  their  successors  has  the  same  charm  of 
spontaneity  and  novelty. 

Following  this  renaissance  came  an  era  —  that  of  Clay,  Web- 
ster and  Calhoun  —  when  politics  once  more  assumed  a  promi- 
nent place  in  the  public  eye.  Slavery  and  State  Rights  were 
discussed,  and  the  problems  incident  to  the  opening  up  of  the 
Continent  pressed  for  consideration.  A  subordinate  departure  of 
Evolution  of  literature  was  in  the  direction  of  a  multiform  senti- 
onrlltera-  mentalism.  Dealers  in  all  manner  of  moral,  social 
^^^'  and  political  nostrums  appeared ;   a  storm  of  vague 

and  futile  theories  obscured  the  air,  and  the  American  mind, 
distracted  and,  for  the  moment,  emasculated,  expressed  itself 
in  books  which  faithfully  reflected  its  unhealthy  and  enfeebled 
tone.  This  lasted  till  the  breaking  out  of  the  Civil  War.  The 
literature  which  has  come  into  existence  since  then  is  too  hetero- 
geneous, both  in  form  and  quality,  to  be  labelled  in  a  few  phrases ; 
but  its  general  characteristics  are  overfinish  and  conventionality, 
and  the  need  of  a  new,  unhackneyed  inspiration  is  acutely  felt. 
Let  us  now  return  to  the  Pioneers. 

Washington  Irving  (i 783-1859)  was  the  first  in  the  field; 
although,  as  we  have  seen,  Charles  Brockden  Brown  preceded 
him.  But  Brown  never  set  his  feet  on  solid  earth  ;  he  hovered  in 
a  murky  air  of  his  own  creation,  and  his  romances  had  no  real 
relation  to  the  land  or  the  time  in  which  he  lived.  Irving  pos- 
sessed the  rare  and  invaluable  endowment  of  a  thoroughly  healthy 
nature :    nothing  bitter,   morbid  or  sensational   ever  came   from 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  39 

him.  He  was  a  spontaneous  optimist :  he  decUned  to  look  upon 
the  gloomy  and  sinister  side  of  Hfe.  His  intellectual 
ship  was  not  a  vessel  of  deep  draught ;  but  her  lines  ?*^  ci^arac- 
were  graceful,  her  sails  white,  her  movement  light- 
some, and  she  sailed  on  summer  seas  :  and  the  hand  upon  her 
helm  ever  steered  her  towards  the  Happy  Isles.  Yet  it  must  not 
be  inferred  that  Irving's  personal  experience  was  all  ease  and  sun- 
shine. One  deep  grief  he  had  —  deep  and.  lasting  :  one  irksome 
and  protracted  annoyance  :  and  his  physical  health,  never  very 
robust,  was  at  the  outset  of  his  career  so  dehcate  as  to  threaten 
a  fatal  issue.  But  he  met  these  misfortunes  with  undemonstra- 
tive but  manly  courage ;  nor  was  he  spoiled  or  vulgarized  by  the 
brilliant  success  that  greeted  all  his  literary  productions.  On 
the  contrary,  it  surprised  and  almost  intimidated  him ;  he 
could  not  believe  that  his  work  was  so  excellent  as  the  pubHc 
declared  it  to  be.  This,  no  doubt,  was  because  the  work  was  the 
genuine  and  unforced  product  of  his  temperament,  which  was 
normally  Uterary ;  he  could  not  gauge  a  quality  so  intimate  to 
himself.  Humor,  ranging  from  playful  to  broad,  was  a  prominent 
feature  of  his  writings  ;  and  allied  with  it  was  a  sincere  and  refined 
vein  of  pathos.  His  observation  was  accurate  and  graphic,  his 
perception  of  character  picturesque  and  sympathetic,  his  judg- 
ment sane  and  serene.  His  mind  was  creative,  though  not  on  a 
profound  scale  :  he  was  wanting  in  the  constructive  faculty ;  and 
there  were  regions  of  human  nature  which  he  made  no  attempt  to 
explore.  But  in  his  own  gentle  and  charming  sphere  he  was 
altogether  admirable  ;  and  he  proved  his  good  sense  by  not  trying 
to  achieve  what  was  beyond  him.  "  My  writings,"  he  said,  "  may 
appear  light  and  trifling  in  our  country  of  philosophers  and  poli- 
ticians ;  but  if  they  possess  merit  in  the  class  of  literature  to 
which  they  belong,  it  is  all  to  which  I  aspire."  His  genius  was 
that  of  the  sketcher  rather  than  the  painter;  but  it  was  a  true 
and  virile  genius,  and  it  seldom  went  seriously  astray.  Indeed, 
almost  the  only  fault  really  ascribable  to  Irving  is  an  occasional 
thinness  of  touch,  noticeable  especially  in  his  sentimental  pas- 
sages.    But,  however  thin,  his  sentiment  is  not  false  nor  sickly; 


40  AMERICAN  .  ,  .  .  ..A. 

while  his  humorous  passages,  never  far  to  seek,  are  full  of  body 
and  brilliance. 

Washington  Irving  owes  his  given  name  to  the  fact  that  he  was 
born,  in  New  York,  some  five  or  six  months  before  General  Wash- 
ington entered  the  city  on  its  evacuation  by  the  British  troops  under 
Sir  Guy  Carleton.    "  Washington's  work  is  ended  :  the  child  shall  be 

named  after  him,"  said  his  mother.  The  boy,  though 
jjjg  early        deUcate,  overflowed  with  lively  spirits,  and  was  obliged 

to  resort  to  stratagem  to  get  the  fun  his-  nature 
clamored  for.  For  his  father  was  a  Scotch  Presbyterian,  with  the 
severity  and  rigidity  of  the  old  Covenanters  in  his  domestic 
methods  and  notions.  He  acted  upon  the  theory  that  anything 
entertaining  must  be  wrong.  Washington's  mother,  however,  was 
an  English  woman  of  sweet  and  gentle  character ;  and  since  he 
was  the  youngest  of  eleven  children,  he  was  indulged  and  protected 
by  his  elder  brothers  and  sisters.  His  fragile  constitution  also  con- 
tributed to  his  freedom.  His  schooling  was  desultory,  and  he  never 
was  a  hard  student.  He  rambled  over  Westchester  County,  made 
excursions  up  the  Hudson  and  did  substantially  what  he  pleased. 
The  most  important  result  of  his  experience  in  the  law-office  of 
Jeremiah  Ogden  Hoffman  was  the  acquaintance  it  brought  about 
between  him  and  Hoffman's  daughter,  with  whom  he  fell  in  love, 
but  who  died  of  consumption  before  they  could  be  married. 
This  was  Irving's  great  grief,  and  it  may  be  said  that  he  never  wholly 
got  over  it.  At  all  events,  he  remained  all  his  life  unmarried.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  was  all  his  life  very  susceptible  to  female  influ- 
ence, and  his  chivalrous  devotion  to  women  as  women  is  one  of  his 
most  agreeable  traits.  Nor  were  women  less  attracted  to  him.  A 
His  manner  "^^^^  winning  personage  than  the  young  Irving  was  not 
and  appear-  easily  to  be  found.  Of  medium  height  and  rounded 
^^ce.  figure,  his  finely  shaped  head  was  covered  with  wavy 

dark  brown  hair.  A  high,  full  forehead  and  delicate  eyebrows 
overshadowed  deep  gray  eyes,  which  sparkled  with  humor  and 
softened  with  feeling.  His  nose  was  finely  moulded,  his  mouth 
refined,  his  chin  strong.  An  agreeably  modulated  voice  and  a 
delightful  smile  enhanced  the  graces  of  his  person.     His  character 


41 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  41 

was  the  complement  of  his  appearance.  A  woman  who  knew  him 
well  describes  him  as  being  thoroughly  a  gentleman,  both  in  man- 
ner, and  to  the  core  of  hia  heart.  He  was  sweet-tempered,  gentle, 
sensitive,  gay  and  humorous  ;  gifted  with  warm  affections  ;  bright, 
easy  and  abundant  in  conversation,  and  an  invariably  interesting 
companion.  Indeed,  Irving,  though  born  to  literature,  was  never 
in  the  least  Bohemian.  He  belonged  to  the  best,  most  cultivated 
society ;  and  wherever  he  went,  at  home  or  abroad,  the  best 
society  welcomed  and  caressed  him. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-one,  after  contributing  a  few  satirical  let- 
ters to  a  local  newspaper  over  the  signature  of  "  Jonathan  Old- 
style,"  Irving  went  abroad  for  his  health,  and  made  the  "  grand 
tour."  He  made  the  acquaintance  of  several  notable  people,  and 
indulged  his  fondness  for  the  stage  by  studying  Kemble  and  Mrs. 
Siddons.  Returning  home,  after  two  years,  in  1806,  he  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  bar,  only  to  neglect  it  for  the  folHes  of  ^^  ^^^^ 
society  with  the  congenial  young  men  and  women  literary 
of  the  day.  With  the  cooperation  of  his  brother  "^®^*^®** 
William  and  his  friend  Paulding,  he  brought  out  a  semi-monthly 
periodical,  "Salmagundi,"  which  ran  through  twenty  successful 
numbers,  and  attempted,  as  the  prospectus  put  it,  "simply  to 
instruct  the  young,  reform  the  old,  correct  the  town,  and  castigate 
the  age."  The  papers,  in  the  Addisonian  style,  were  witty  and 
humorous,  but  the  authors  seem  to  have  tired  of  them  before  the 
readers  did,  for  they  voluntarily  discontinued  the  periodical.  It 
was  soon  after  this  that  the  sad  issue  of  Irving's  love  affair  took 
place ;  but,  in  order  to  relieve  the  sorrow  that  weighed  upon  him, 
he  kept  at  work  upon  an  enterprise  that  he  and  his  brother  Peter 
had  begun  a  little  while  before.  This  was  a  burlesque  or  comic 
history  of  the  early  settlement  of  New  York,  and  was  entitled 
"  A  History  of  New  York,  by  Diedrich  Knickerbocker." 

The  book  was  published  in  1809,  and  was  immediately  success- 
ful. It  had  been  heralded  by  paragraphs  in  the  papers  referring 
to  its  supposititious  author,  couched  in  a  tone  so  serious  as  to 
mislead  many.  In  fact,  a  first  hasty  glance  through  the  pages 
seems  to  have  given  some  persons  the  impression  that  it  was  the 


42  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

bona  fide  history  that  it  pretended  to  be  ;  but  the  satire,  as  a  rule, 
was  at  once  perceived,  and  enjoyed  with  an  intensity  of  apprecia- 
tion never  before  aroused  by  an  American  book,  and  dissented 
from  only  by  a  few  old  ladies  of  both  sexes  and  of  Dutch  descent, 
who  were  enraged  and  scandalized  at  sport  made  of  their  revered 
ancestors.  The  first  effect  of  the  book  was  to  excite  irresistible 
merriment ;  but,  as  time  went  on,  more  critical  judgment  found 
it  rich  in'  literary  merits  which  had  been  obscured — -or,  rather, 
A  master-  dazzled  out  of  sight  —  by  the  broad  and  rollicking 
piece  of  humorousness  of  the  conception  and  execution.     The 

"""''•  book  is,  indeed,  a  real  masterpiece  of  humor;  and 

though  Rabelais  and  Swift  might  claim  it  as  their  hterary  posterity, 
it  is  substantially  an  original  book,  which  might  have  been  written 
differently  if  Rabelais  and  Swift  had  never  existed,  but  would 
probably  have  been  little  less  bright  or  amusing  in  any  event.  It  is 
a  book  written  with  evident  enjoyment  and  freedom  ;  it  is  broad  in 
conception  and  as  solid  in  execution  as  a  genuine  historical  work, 
and  the  whimsical  charm  of  its  style  and  characterizations  has 
given  it  a  lasting  place  in  the  affections  of  readers.  Abroad,  it 
was  appreciated  only  less  highly  than  at  home.  Sir  Walter  Scott 
read  it  aloud  to  his  family,  laughing  heartily  over  it.  During  the 
next  few  years  it  passed  through  several  editions,  and  every  new 
generation  brings  it  fresh  readers. 

The  fame  and  favor  thus  brought  to  Irving  (who  wrote  all  of 
the  book  except  the  five  opening  chapters)  failed  to  induce  him 
to  adopt  a  hterary  career.  He  seems  to  have  regarded  his  book 
as  a  jeu  d^ esprit,  not  likely  to  open  up  a  career.  He  went  into 
the  hardware  business  as  partner  with  his  brother,  visited  Wash- 
ington in  the  interests  of  the  concern  and  made  the 
politics  acquaintance  of  President  Madison  and  his  wife,  and 

of  society  at  the  capital  and  in  Baltimore.  Irving 
was  a  Federahst,  and  had  dabbled  a  little  tentatively  in  politics, 
but  he  was  never  a  strong  partisan.  To  quote  his  own  words,  he 
was  without  gall,  and  distrusted  the  soundness  of  political  counsels 
accompanied  by  attacks  on  any  great  class  of  the  people.  At  this 
period  he  confessed  to  restlessness  and  dissatisfaction.     He  craved 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  43 

some  absorbing  preoccupation.  ''Protect  me  from  these  calms  ! " 
he  exclaimed.  Society  lost  its  savor  for  him.  He  wrote  for  "The 
Analectic  Magazine  "  for  a  while  ;  but  at  the  outbreak  of  the  War 
of  1812  he  resolved  to  take  up  arms,  and  was  appointed  aide  on 
General  Tompkins's  staff  with  the  rank  of  colonel.  The  war  ended 
before  he  found  an  opportunity  of  distinguishing  himself,  and  he 
soon  after  sailed  for  Europe  to  look  after  the  interests  of  Irving 
Brothers'  business  on  that  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

During  the  next  three  years  he  met  all  the  Hterary  celebrities 
of  the  Old  World,  and  became  no  less  of  a  favorite  in.  England 
than  he  was  at  home.  But  in  181 8  Irving  Brothers  failed,  and 
this  disaster  opened  to  Washington  the  gates  of  prosperity  and 
renown.  With  fine  courage  and  determination  he  struck  out  on 
an  independent  literary  career.  Having  once  definitely  addressed 
himself  to  this  career,  he  allowed  no  temptations  to  turn  him  from 
it.  He  who  had  hitherto  been  the  idle  ornament  of  his  family 
now  became  its  stay  and  support.  He  refused  remunerative  offers 
of  government  employment  at  home,  and  editorships  abroad,  and 
settled  down  in  London  to  creative  literary  work.  In  18 19  he  pub- 
lished "The  Sketch-Book,"  which  comprised,  among  ^1^^. 
other  pieces,  the  celebrated  story  of  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  "  Sketch- 
—  "a  stroke  of  genius,"  as  one  of  his  best  critics  re-  ^  *" 
marks,  "  that  recreates  the  world,  and  clothes  it  with  the  hues  of 
romance.  It  is  one  of  the  primal  stories  ;  a  great  picture  painted 
by  a  great  artist  on  a  small  canvas."  After  its  success  in  America, 
the  copyright  of  the  volume  was  bought  by  the  Enghsh  publisher, 
John  Murray,  for  ^1000.  Irving  was  at  this  time  thirty-six  years 
old. 

He  continued  to  reside  in  England  for  five  years,  his  next  works 
being  "  Tales  of  a  Traveller,"  in  which  are  utilized  the  fruits  of  his 
European  experiences,  and  which  contains  the  well-known  sketch 
of  "The   Stout   Gentleman":    and  the  volume   called   "Brace- 
bridge  Hall."     "  He  wrote  with  facility  and  rapidity 
when  the  fit  was  on  him,  and  produced  great  quantities   England, 
of  manuscript  in  a  short  time  ;  but  he  often  waited  and 
worried  through  barren  months  for  the  movements  of  his  fitful 


44  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

genius."  Irving  himself  regarded  the  "Tales"  as  more  artistic 
than  his  previous  works,  but  did  not  anticipate  its  popularity.  It 
was  quickly  written,  and  has  a  charming  ease  and  lightness  of 
style,  but  the  public  began  to  demand  from  him  something  off  the 
old  lines.  This  demand  may  have  suggested  to  him  the  group  of 
writings  that  finds  its  theme  and  inspiration  in  Spanish  subjects. 
The  "Tales"  appeared  in  1824.  In  1826  Irving  went  to  Spain, 
and  took  up  his  residence  in  Madrid. 

The  three  years  that  Irving  spent  in  Spain  resulted  in  the  writ- 
ing of  four  books,  —  the  "  Alhambra,"  the  "  Conquest  of  Granada," 
the  "  Legends  of  the  Conquest  of  Spain  "  and  "  The  Life  of 
Columbus."  The  field  which  he  thus  opened  was  a  virgin  one ; 
no  books  on  Spanish  subjects  had  till  then  been  published  in 
America,  and  Irving,  in  his  search  for  materials,  discovered  numer- 
His  books  on  ^"^  documents  that  had  lain  hidden  among  the  Spanish 
Spanish  archives  for  hundreds  of  years.     The  romantic  and 

subjects.  picturesque  episodes  of  Spanish  history,  scenery  and 
character  were  thoroughly  in  harmony  with  his  genius,  and  his 
treatment  of  them  was  so  charming  and  masterly  that  his  books 
are  still  classics  on  those  topics,  and  to  remember  Irving  is  to 
think  of  Spain.  They  are  full  of  descriptions  of  noble  landscapes 
and  exquisite  architecture,  of  feats  of  chivalry  and  strange  adven- 
tures, of  supernatural  events  and  portents  ;  and  always  by  the  way 
plays  the  sunshine  of  the  author's  humor,  melting  into  the  weird 
and  beautiful  scenes,  and  throwing  a  smiling  gleam  across  the 
shadowy  places.  The  "  Life  of  Columbus  "  is,  of  course,  a  more 
serious  and  weighty  work  than  the  others,  and  Irving  spared  no 
pains  to  be  historically  accurate.  The  portrait  of  the  discoverer 
is  clearly  drawn  and  richly  colored,  and  is  probably  as  near  the 
truth  as  any  conception  derived  from  documents  of  a  man  of  an 
earlier  century  can  be.  From  his  EngHsh  publishers  he  received 
for  the  copyright  of  these  works  upwards  of  ^30,000. 

The  appointment  of  Secretary  of  Legation  at  the  Court  of  St. 
James  brought  Irving  back  to  London  in  1829,  where  he  renewed 
his  relations  with  his  English  friends,  and  received  medals  and 
degrees  of  honor  from  public  institutions.     In  1831  his  longing  to 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  45 

return  home   impelled  him  to  resign  his  appointment,   and   he 
landed  in  New  York  in  May  of  the  next  year,  after  a 
seventeen  years'  absence.     He  was  received  and  hon-   ^q^'^^ 
ored  as  one  of  the  first  citizens  of  the  Republic,  and 
having  bought  a  farm  at  Tarrytown  on  the  Hudson,  not  far  from 
Sleepy  Hollow,  and  named  it  "  Sunnyside,"  he  took  up  his  abode 
there  with  the  purpose  of  there  ending  his  days. 

And,  in  fact,  the  next  ten  years  of  his  life  were  spent  either  at 
Sunnyside  or  in  explorations  of  his  own  country.     A  journey  in  the 
West  was  the  occasion  of  a  descriptive  volume,  "A 
Tour   on   the    Prairies."     "Astoria"    was   written   in  j^^^'*^"'^" 
compliance  with  the  request  of  the  Astor  family ;  the 
"Recollections  of  Abbotsford  and  Newstead  Abbey"  embodied 
some  English  reminiscences ;  "  Captain  Bonneville  "  is  another 
sketch  of  Western  life ;  and  "  Wolfert's  Roost "  comprised  maga- 
zine articles  written  at  various  times. 

In   1842,  at  the  instance  of  Daniel  Webster,  Irving  was  ap- 
pointed to  the  Spanish  Ministry,  and  during  his  residence  there 
of  four  years  he  found  little  leisure  to  write.     On  his  return,  he 
set  to  work  on  his  long-contemplated  "  Life  of  Washington,"  pub- 
lished in  1855  to   1859;  and  while  producing  it  he 
turned  off  rapidly  "  Mahomet  and  his  Successors  "  and  ^^^^^g 
"  The  Life  of  Goldsmith."    He  died  on  Nov.  28,  1859, 
at  Sunnyside,  and  was  buried  on  a  little  hill  overlooking  the  Sleepy 
Hollow,  which  his  genius  had  rendered  as  immortal  as  himself. 

Irving's  literary  touch  lacks  sharp  precision  ;  but  his  sympathetic 
handling  causes  his  pictures  to  grow  upon  the  reader,  until  at 
length  the  latter  finds  in  the  work  all  that  its  author  felt  and  aimed 
to  convey.  His  point  of  view  was  retrospective  and  tranquil,  and 
was  particularly  grateful  to  a  people  who  had  just  emerged  from 
the  grim  realities  of  the  Revolution.  He  saw  life  through  the 
literary  atmosphere,  and  had  no  theories  to  ventilate,  no  reforms 
to  advocate,  no  specific  moral  to  enforce.  His  style  was  indi- 
vidual, lucid  and  musical.  The  moral  beauty,  integ-  -^^  uterary 
rity  and  generosity  of  his  character  shine  through  style, 
his  books.      The    fact   of  his   giving   up,  in   favor   of  Prescott, 


46 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  design,  cherished  for  years,  of  writing  the  history  of  the  con- 
quest of  Mexico  — and  never  allowing  Prescott  to  suspect  the 
extent  of  his  sacrifice  —  is  a  characteristic  trait  of  a  man  truly 
lovable  and  widely  loved.  His  books  do  good  to  all  who  read 
them,  and  are  likely  to  outlast  many  works  of  far  greater  intel- 
lectual force  and  acumen  :  their  union  of  taste,  simplicity  and 
repose  gives  them  a  hold  upon  our  inmost  and  least  variable 
sympathies. 


James  Fenimore  Cooper  (i  789-1851).    The  massive,  forcible 
and  impetuous  character  of  this  man  renders  him  one  of  the  striking 
figures  of  his  time ;  and  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find 
tore.    ^      ^  contrast  greater  than  that  between  him  and  Irving. 
There   are   apparent  contradictions  in  his  career,  in 
order  to  reconcile  which  we  must  consider  carefully  the  circum- 
stances of  his  birth  and  training, 
his  temperament  and  his  intellec- 
tual quality. 

His  father  was  a  judge,  a  mem- 
ber of  Congress,  and  a  man  of 
means  and  energy.  The  year  after 
James's  birth,  he  moved  from  Bur- 
lington, N.J.,  to  a  large  tract  of 
land  belonging  to  himself,  near 
Otsego  Lake  and  the  Susquehanna 
River.  In  1790  this  place  was 
practically  a  wilderness  :  it  was  on 
the  frontier  of  civilization.  Judge 
Cooper  laid  out  the  streets  of  a 
town,  and  built  himself  a  handsome  house ;  but  his  house-lots 
remained  for  the  most  part  unoccupied.  James,  therefore,  —  a 
healthy  and  high-spirited  boy,  —  had  the  freedom  of 
His  early  ^oods  and  fields,  the  companionship  of  trappers  and 
Indians  and  the  education  to  be  derived  from  wild 
animals  and  observation  of  wild  nature.  He  was  both  observant 
and  imaginative  j  and  these  open-air  experiences,  coming  at  the 


James  Fenimore  Cooper. 


PIONEER   PERIOD.  47 

most  impressible  period  of  his  life,  permanently  affected  him. 
Moreover,  the  War  of  the  Revolution  was  but  just  over,  and  its 
events,  together  with  views  and  speculations  as  to  the  future  of 
the  new  Republic,  were  the  staple  of  conversation.  Young 
Cooper's  patriotism  was  no  doubt  kept  at  a  high  temperature 
by  tales  of  American  hardships  and  triumphs  on  the  batde- 
field;  while  the  political  discussions  between  Federalist  and 
Republican  opened  to  him  vistas  of  meditation  in  economic 
and  social  philosophy.  It  was  natural  to  him  to  take  every- 
thing seriously,  and  his  cast  of  thought  was  ponderous  and 
intense,  rather  than  mercurial.  The  mind  housed  in  his  large, 
strong,  rather  clumsy  body  partook  of  its  characteristics ;  it  could 
not  turn  or  move  swiftly,  but  its  evolutions  were  deliberate  and 
it  fed  much  upon  detail.  If  he  permitted  himself  to  be  hur- 
ried beyond  his  usual  gait,  his  demonstrations  were  apt  to  be 
violent,  and  his  conclusions  erroneous.  His  intellectual  capacity 
was  neither  broad  nor  deep,  but  it  clung  with  the  more  tenacity 
to  the  judgments  it  formed ;  and  a  certain  .  heavy  ingenuity 
and  tireless  energy  enabled  him  to  defend  and  drive  home  his 
opinions,  to  his  own  satisfaction,  if  not  to  that  of  his  opponents. 
Withal,  his  nature  was  noble  and  magnanimous  and  of  inalienable 
dignity ;  injustice  and  littleness  aroused  his  unquenchable  wrath, 
which,  again,  blinded  him  to  the  fact  that  he  was  not 
seldom  led,  by  the  fury  of  opposition  and  denuncia-  ^!  ^^^' 
tion,  into  committing  almost  as  much  injustice  as  he 
denounced.  His  temper,  indeed,  was  little  less  than  ferocious 
when  aroused ;  while  the  persistence  and  thoroughness  of  his 
character  prompted  him  to  fight  out  his  quarrels  to  the  bitter  end. 
His  consciousness  of  the  genius  which  he  undoubtedly  possessed 
tempted  him  to  fancy  that  he  was  qualified  to  lay  down  the  law 
on  all  subjects  in  heaven  and  earth ;  whereas,  in  truth,  his  proper 
field  and  scope  were  very  narrow.  He  comprehended  neither 
men  nor  women  in  any  profound  sense ;  but  he  had  an  over- 
mastering perception  of  certain  broad  qualities  of  human  nature, 
and,  in  his  best  books,  he  described  and  embodied  them  most 
impressively.     Some  aspects  of  his  character  recall  that  of  Walter 


48  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Savage  Landor  ;  but  the  product  of  his  mind,  both  in  quaUty  and 
aim,  was,  of  course,  utterly  different  from  that  of  the  great  Eng- 
lishman, while  of  Landor's  classical  scholarship  he  was  destitute 
almost  of  a  trace. 

Not  that  Cooper's  education  was  confined  to  the  influences  of 
His  education  ^^^^^e  and  its  denizens.  He  had  the  best  schooling 
andexperl-  obtainable  in  that  day  and  place,  and  entered  Yale 
ence.  College  in    1802,  in  his  fourteenth  year;   and  after 

three  years'  study,  joined  the  Navy,  and  served  for  six  years  under 
the  Stars  and  Stripes.  This  not  only  gave  him  knowledge  and 
discipline,  which  were  doubtless  of  no  small  value  to  him,  but  his 
salt-water  experience  was  also  destined  to  qualify  him  to  be  the 
foremost  sea-novelist  in  the  language.  At  twenty-one  he  left  the 
navy  and  married ;  and  then  for  nearly  ten  years  he  subsided 
into  the  gentleman  farmer,  with  every  prospect  of  remaining  such 
to  the  end  of  his  days. 

The  manner  in  which  his  career  was  opened  to  him  was  char- 
acteristic. He  had  been  reading  an  English  novel,  and  had  found 
The  occasion  ^^  ^"^^'  insomuch  that,  on  laying  it  down,  he  was  moved 
of  his  first  to  declare  that  he  could  write  a  better  story  himself. 
book.  jyjj.g  CQQpej.  jnay  have  smiled  in  a  manner  which  he 

interpreted  as  incredulous ;  at  all  events,  by  way  of  proving  his 
words,  he  took  pen  and  paper  and  produced  one  of  the  stupidest 
books  ever  written,  and  decorated  it  with  the  engaging  title  of 
"  Precaution."  Whether  because  he  was  conscious  that  this 
achievement  scarcely  made  good  his  boast,  or  that,  in  the  course 
of  its  evolution,  he  had  stumbled  upon  the  secret  of  his  possibiH- 
ties,  certain  it  is  that  instead  of  laying  down  his  pen,  he  set  to 
work  anew,  and  in  "The  Spy,"  a  story  of  the  Revolution,  he  con- 
quered fame  at  a  stroke.  This  was  in  1821.  Two  years  later 
came  "  The  Pioneers,"  the  first  pubHshed  of  the  "  Leatherstock- 
ing"  group;  in  1824,  "The  Pilot,"  first  and  best  of  his  sea-tales; 
and  in  1826,  "The  Last  of  the  Mohicans,"  by  which  time  Cooper 
had  become  the  leading,  or  rather  the  only,  American  novelist, 
and  was  known  and  admired  not  merely  at  home,  but  in  England 
and,  through  translations,  in  most  of  the  countries  of  the  Continent. 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  49 

In  1826  Cooper  went  to  Europe,  and  remained  there  seven  or 
eight  years.  The  consequences  of  this  journey  were  not  fortunate  ; 
they  brought  out  the  less  attractive  side  of  his  char-  _a.  European 
acter.  While  in  France  he  read  in  a  newspaper  a  visit  and  its 
statement  reflecting  upon  the  government  of  the  United  ^^^^  ^' 
States.  He  was  moved  to  write  a  reply  vigorously  repeUing  the 
aspersion;  rejoinders  followed  on  both  sides,  and  ere  long  the 
pugnacious  American  was  deeply  embroiled.  On  returning  home 
in  1833,  his  ire  was  aroused  afresh  by  certain  hostile  criticisms  in 
native  journals ;  instead  of  being  supported  by  his  own  country- 
men, he  found  them  turned  against  him.  The  situation  was  one 
to  have  awakened  his  sense  of  humor,  if  he  had  had  any ;  but,  as 
usual,  he  took  it  in  savage  earnest,  and  employed  himself  for 
several  years  in  proving  the  turpitude  and  worthlessness  of  the 
very  people  in  whose  behalf  he  had  been  breaking  lances  abroad. 
Not  content  with  prosecuting  actions  at  law,  inditing  newspaper 
articles  and  writing  novels  in  support  of  his  opinions  and  in 
scorn  and  ridicule  of  his  opponents,  he  composed  a  romance 
embodying  his  views  of  the  ideal  social  state.  Thus,  like  a  warrior 
at  Donnybrook  fair,  he  fought  with  impartial  energy  against  all 
and  sundry ;  and  ended  by  shouting  defiance  to  the  world  from 
the  unsubstantial  batdements  of  a  casde  in  the  air.  The  titles  of 
these  compositions  need  not  be  mentioned ;  none  of  them  re- 
pay reading,  and  they  are  better  forgotten.  Happily  they  did 
not  prevent  Cooper  from  continuing  to  produce  the  great  stories 
upon  which  his  renown  is  based.  In  all,  he  wrote  thirty-four 
works  of  fiction,  beside  histories,  essays  and  treatises.  Of  these, 
not  more  than  ten  demand  the  notice  of  the  student ;  and  there 
are,  even  in  those  books,  large  tracts  of  verbiage  that  would  better 
have  been  omitted.  But  there  remains,  after  all  deductions  and 
criticisms  have  been  made,  enough  good  matter  to  constitute  a 
high  and  enduring  reputation. 

Cooper  died  on  the  14th  September,  185 1,  the^ve  of  his  sixty- 
second  birthday.  Those  of  his  books  that  are  read  fall  into  two 
groups,  —  the  sea-tales  and  the  Leatherstocking  series.  They  are 
written  for  the  pure  pleasure  of  creation ;  they  are  the  fruit  of 


so  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

objective  experience,  enriched  by  genius  and  shaped  by  a  mascu- 
line grandeur  of  motive  into  noble  and  dignified  forms.  Their 
plots  are  a  succession  of  absorbing  and  exciting  incidents,  rendered 
in  somewhat  formal  language,  and  with  a  deliberation  of  move- 
ment and  a  copiousness  of  detail  which,  while  giving  weight  and 

substance  to  the  final  impression,  are  sometimes  not 
His  method. 

far  from  the  fault  of  tediousness.     Yet  this  treatment 

is  essential  to  the  genius  of  the  author,  who  cannot  use  his  mate- 
rials until  he  has,  as  it  were,  fingered  every  part  of  them.  He 
differs  from  Scott  (between  whose  romances  and  his  own  there 
are  certain  superficial  points  of  resemblance)  in  two  important 
respects :  though  Scott  describes  vividly  and  at  sufficient  length 
in  his  introductory  passages,  he  never  lingers  over  such  matters 
when  the  heart  of  the  story  is  up,  but  carries  us  onward  with  a 
speed  in  strict  proportion  to  the  interest  of  the  situation.  Again, 
Scott's  dialogues  are  among  his  most  masterly  achievements  :  they 
not  only  advance  the  narrative,  but  they  interpret  the  characters 
of  the  speakers,  and  they  sound  the  whole  gamut  of  emotion  and 
humor.  Cooper,  on  the  contrary,  never  succeeds  in  making  his 
people  talk,  or  in  detaching  them  from  their  background :  their 
utterances  have  the  form  but  not  the  quality  of  living  conversation. 
Beyond  assigning  specific  idioms  to  certain  characters,  such  as 
Natty  Bumppo  and  Long  Tom  Coffin,  Cooper  makes  scarcely  an 
attempt  to  induce  his  personages  spontaneously  to  individualize 
themselves.  In  short,  their  speech  so  closely  resembles  the  writing 
of  the  author  that,  save  for  the  occasional  orthographical  and  idio- 
matic solecisms  above  noted,  they  are  indistinguishable  therefrom. 
Cooper,  in  other  words,  is  a  describer  and  nothing  else ;  but  in 
description  he  is  a  master.  He  completes  picture  after  picture  to 
the  minutest  touch  ;  and  he  describes  actions,  thoughts  and  events 
as  exhaustively  as  he  does  persons  and  things.  A  deeply  romantic 
atmosphere  pervades  all  his  works  ;  they  are  like  nothing  in  the  real 
world,  and  yet  the  imaginary  world  which  they  occupy  and  con- 
stitute is  so  consistent  and  so  faithfully  elaborated  that  we  might 
easily  call  them  realistic.  Cooper's  method  has  been  Hkened  to 
Defoe's ;  but  Defoe  never  even  accidentally  lapses  into  romance, 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  51 

and  where  Defoe  is  homely,  transparent  and  indifferent,  Cooper 
is  pompous,  complicated  and  solemn.  He  is  a  writer  without 
tact ;  and  when  an  interval  comes  in  the  progress  of  his  tale,  it 
seems  as  if  there  never  would  be  another  movement,  until  the 
author  had  weighed  down  his  indefatigable  shoulders  with  earth, 
sky,  mankind  and  all  thereto  appertaining. 

But  the  reader  always  feels  that  within  the  mountain  of  solid 
flesh  and  bone  that  Cooper  offers  to  the  eye,  there  is'  a  love  of 
beauty,  goodness  and  pure  ideals.     The  things  this  author  most 
loves  and  reverences  are  revered  and  loved  by  all 
men :  he  never  strikes  an  unsympathetic  note  of  emo-  ^^^^^ipies 
tion  or  principle.      And  when  he  is  afloat  on  his  quar- 
ter-deck, or  immersed  in  the  untrodden  wilderness  of  the  Western 
Continent,  he  gives  us  an  enjoyment  new  in  kind,  as  well  as  of 
compelling  interest.    To  plunge  into  one  of  his  great  books  brings 
a  refreshment  only  to  be  likened  to  that  of  the  sea  and  forest  which 
they  describe.     We  proceed  majestically  from  one  stirring  event 
to  another ;  and  though  we  never  move  faster  than  a  contempla- 
tive walk,  we  know,  like  the  man  on  his  way  to  the  scaffold,  that 
nothing  can  happen  till  we  get  there. 

It  is  one  of  Cooper's  most  remarkable  feats  that,  in  spite  of  his 
weakness  in  dialogue,  he  should  have  created  a  number  of  charac- 
ters as  solid  and  recognizable  as  any  in  American  fiction.    Indeed, 
it  would  be  difficult  to  find  anywhere  in  the  literature  of  the  cen- 
tury creatures  of  imagination  having  a  firmer  hold  on 
popular   sympathy   and   belief  than   Natty  Bumppo,   characters. 
Long  Tom  Coffin  and  many  of  their  associates.     We 
know  them,  we  see  them  and  we  can  even  hear  them  between  the 
lines,  as  it  were,  that  the  author  gives  them  to  speak.     He  has 
fashioned  them  so  well  that  they  cease  to  appear  as  puppets,  and 
seem  to  come  to  independent  hfe. 

As  soon  as  Cooper  left  the  realm  of  his  imagination,  his  genius 
deserted  him.  The  moment  he  began  to  wrangle,  to  exhort  or  to 
instruct,  he  failed.  Whatever  personally  disturbed  him  rendered 
his  writing  commonplace,  tedious  and  oppressive.  Hence  arises 
the  singular  badness  of  such  of  his  books  as  are  not  good.    And 


52  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

hence  we  may  learn  how  much  a  man  can  achieve  when,  standing 
aloof  from  his  selfish  passions  and  interests,  he  throws  his  power 
and  resources  into  impersonal  effort.  In  the  one  case  he  is,  rela- 
tively, as  a  lump  of  solid  clay ;  in  the  other,  as  an  incarnate  soul. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  give  a  Hst  of  his  many  books, 
books.  ^^  ^^  ^^^^  ^^  chronological  order  of  their  production. 

Of  the  Leatherstocking  series,  there  are  "  The  Deer- 
slayer,"  ''The  Pathfinder,"  " The  Last  of  the  Mohicans,"  "The 
Pioneers"  and  "The  Prairie."  Of  the  sea-tales,  "The  Pilot,"  "  The 
Red  Rover  "  and,  perhaps,  "  The  Two  Admirals,"  are  sufficient. 
Of  the  Revolutionary  stories  may  be  read  "  The  Spy  "  and  "  Lionel 
Lincoln."  All  the  rest  may  be  safely  neglected,  since  whatever  is 
good  in  them  is  as  good,  or  much  better,  in  those  mentioned. 

Fenimore  Cooper,  from  the  personal  point  of  view,  was  a  burly, 
gallant,  irascible,  high-minded  gentleman  who  lived  an  honorable 
life,  and  aimed  to  do  justice  to  all  men,  not  least  to  himself. 
From  the  standpoint  of  literature,  he  was  the  discoverer  of  a 
whole  new  region  of  romance,  and  its  most  successful  worker. 
His  Bosition  "^^^  power  that  enabled  him  to  hold  the  attention  of 
in  the  Uter-  innumerable  readers  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  without 
ary  world,  reference  to  nationality  or  circumstance,  and  which 
has  kept  his  books  in  active  circulation  for  more  than  half  a  cen- 
tury, can  be  nothing  else  than  genius.  His  books  are  friends, 
from  childhood  to  old  age  :  they  teach  high  principles  by  lovingly 
depicting  them,  and  their  popularity  is  not  more  creditable  to 
them  than  to  the  human  nature  that  delights  in  them. 

Edgar  Allan  Poe  (i  809-1 849).  The  biographers  of  Poe  do 
not  agree  as  to  many  of  the  events  of  his  life  and  traits  of  his 

character.  Griswold,  who  had  possession  of  his  literary 
view^*^*"^^     remains,  probably  knew  more  facts  about  him  than 

did  other  writers  ;  but  Griswold  was  Poe's  enemy,  and 
suppressed  or  distorted  whatever  would  have  told  in  his  favor. 
Ingram,  on  the  contrary,  is  a  blind  and  injudicious  eulogist. 
Between  these  two  extremes  there  have  been  all  shades  of  opin- 
ion on  the  subject.     Poe  is  himself  to  blame  for  much  of  the 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  53 

uncertainty  concerning  him.  His  autobiographical  statements  were 
often  inconsistent  with  each  other ;  he  attempted  mystification  for 
the  sake  of  adding  to  his  importance,  or  veiling 
discreditable  facts. 

He  was  born  in  Boston,  Mass.,  on  the  19th 
of  January.     On  his  father's  side  he  claimed 
descent  from  an  Italian  family  of  the  ninth  or 
tenth  century,  who  moved  to  Normandy,  thence 
to  England,  and  thence,  by  way  of  Wales,  to 
Ireland,  where,  as  the  De  La  Poers,  they  ap- 
pear in  the  fourteenth  century.     We  know,  at 
all  events,  that  Edgar's  father,  David,  was  dis- 
owned by  his  family  for  having  married  a  pretty  ^^^ 
English  actress  in  this  country.    At  the  age  of  three  Edgar  was 
left  an  orphan,  but  was  adopted  by  his  godparents,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Allan,  wealthy  Virginia   people.     They  treated   him 
with  indulgence,  took  him  with  them  to  England  in   ^^^^     ' 
his  sixth  year  and  put  him  to  school  at  Stoke  New- 
ington,   some   of  Poe's   reminiscences   of  which   appear   in   his 
story  "William  Wilson."    After  five  years'  study,  he  returned  to 
America,  and  entered  a  private  academy  near  Richmond,  being 
then  twelve  or  thirteen  years  old.     Five  years  later  he  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  University  of  Virginia,  but  left  it  before  he  was  nine- 
teen, and,  owing  to  some  disagreement  with  his  godfather,  took 
himself  into  his  own  hands,  and  set  out  for  Greece,  intending,  like 
Byron,  to  offer  his  aid  against  the  Turks.     It  is  not  likely  that  he 
reached  Greece ;  there  is  some  reason  to  believe  that  he  got  as 
far  as  London;  but  his  whereabouts  during  this  year  1827  have 
never  been  certainly  known.     He  reappeared  in  Richmond  at  the 
end  of  the  year,  and  pubhshed  his  first  poems,  "  Al  Aaraaf  "  and 
"  Tamerlane."    In  1830  he  obtained  an  appointment  at  West  Point, 
but  was  discharged  for  irregular  conduct  nine  months  afterwards. 

Poe  was  now  an  active,  handsome,  well-informed  and  highly 
intelligent  youth  of  twenty-one  or  two,  who  had  seen  something  of 
life,  was  averse  to  steady  work,  had  betrayed  a  tendency  to  drink, 
doubtless  hereditary,  had  been  alternately  spoiled  and  buffeted 


54  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

by  fortune,  put  a  high  value  on  his  own  importance  and  abihties, 
and  was  proud,  secretive  and  lacking  in  sound  principle.  Soon 
after  returning  to  the  Allans,  Poe  had  a  passing  love  affair,  leading 
to  another  quarrel  with  his  godfather,  and  a  final  separation ;  for 
Mr.  Allan,  now  a  widower,  soon  married  again,  and  had  a  son  of 
his  own,  who  inherited  the  fortune  that  Poe  might  otherwise  have 
hoped  for.  Turning  for  support  to  literature,  he  won  a  prize  of  a 
hundred  dollars  in  a  competition  instituted  by  a  peri- 
T^begin-  ^^.^^j  ^^jjg^  «^^^  Saturday  Visitor."  His  contribu- 
tion was  "The  Manuscript  found  in  a  Bottle,"  one  of 
a  group  of  six  stories  entitled  "Tales  of  the  Folio  Club."  The 
reputation  thus  gained  brought  Poe  into  business  and  personal 
relations  with  the  author  and  editor,  Kennedy,  and  finally  led  to 
his  being  given  the  editorship  of  "  The  Southern  Literary  Messen- 
ger," at  a  salary  of  ^520  a  year. 

Poe  was  then  twenty-six  years  old.     In  the  following  year  he 
married  his  cousin,  Virginia  Clemm,  the  "  Annabel  Lee  "  of  the 
Continued       poem  written  in   1848,  after  her  death.     She  was  a 
literary  ac-     beautiful  girl,  only  fourteen  at  her   marriage,  and  a 
^*  victim  of  consumption.     A  prosperous  career  seemed 

opening  before  Poe,  for  his  stories  and  critiques  increased  the 
circulation  of  the  magazine;  but  in  1837  he  resigned  the  editor- 
ship for  unexplained  reasons.  His  "  Hans  Pfaal "  and  other  tales 
and  poems  had  added  to  his  literary  reputation,  and  he  obtained 
work  on  the  "  New  York  Quarterly  Review,"  where  his  severe 
reviews  of  current  literature  again  attracted  attention.  He  wrote 
"  Arthur  Gordon  Pym  "  in  this  year,  and  it  brought  him  some 
fame  in  London.  In  1838  he  went  to  Philadelphia  and  became 
editor  of  "The  Gentleman's  Magazine  "  ;  and  in  1839,  in  his  thir- 
tieth year,  he  published  in  a  volume  his  "  Tales  of  the  Grotesque 
and  Arabesque,"  on  which  his  renown  as  a  prose  writer  rests. 
The  story  "  Ligeia,"  regarded  by  Poe  as  his  best  work,  was 
included  in  this  collection. 

The  next  year  he  left  the  "  Gentleman's "  and  undertook 
"  Graham's  Magazine,"  whose  circulation  he  soon  increased  ten- 
fold.    Mr.  Graham,   the  proprietor,  remained   Poe's  friend  and 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  55 

admirer,  all  his  life.     After  fifteen  months,  Poe  left  "  Graham's  " 
as  abruptly  as  he  had  left  the  "Gentleman's,"  and  attempted, 
unsuccessfully,  to  start  a  magazine  of  his  own.      In    1841,   his 
"  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue  "  was  translated  in  a  Paris  periodi- 
cal, and  the   Frenchman,  Baudelaire,  undertook  the 
translation  of  his   other   prose  works.     Poe's  popu-   ^v^L 
larity'in  France  has  since  that  time  exceeded  that  of 
any  other  American  writer.     In  this  year  he  also  wrote  a  remarka- 
ble prophetic  review  of  "  Barnaby  Rudge,"  by  Dickens.     Though 
only  the  opening  numbers  of  the  novel  had  appeared,  Poe,  by  dint 
of  careful  analysis,  foretold  the  future  development  of  the  plot. 
In  1842  he  first  met  his  biographer,  Griswold,  a  man  somewhat 
younger  than  himself.     In  1843  ^^  ^^^^  ^^e  one  hundred  dollar 
prize  from  the  "  Dollar  Magazine  "  committee,  with  his  story  of 
"  The  Gold  Bug." 

At  the  age  of  thirty-five  Poe  returned  to  New  York,  after  a 
residence  in  Philadelphia  of  about  seven  years.  He  was  con- 
nected for  a  while  with  "  The  Mirror,"  edited  by  N.  P.  Willis ; 
with  "  Colton's  American  Review,"  and  with  "  The  Broadway 
Journal,"  of  which  he  became  proprietor  in  1845.  In  the  latter 
year  appeared  "  The  Raven,"  a  poem  which,  more  than  any  other 
one  thing,  increased  his  fame  both  here  and  abroad. 
He  published  a  volume  of  his  poems,  dedicated  to  yorj^  I'^riod 
Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning,  whom  he  had  long  ad- 
mired. He  delivered  a  lecture  on  American  Poets,  and  con- 
tributed reviews  to  "  Godey's  Ladies'  Book."  In  1846  "The 
Broadway  Journal,"  most  of  which  he  had  himself  written,  col- 
lapsed, and  Poe  retired  with  his  invalid  wife  to  a  little  cottage  at 
Fordham.  His  wife  died  in  1847.  P^e  never  was  quite  himself 
afterwards,  though,  a  year  or  two  later,  he  proposed  marriage  to  a 
Mrs.  Whitman,  a  poetess  of  local  and  temporary  celebrity.  She 
hesitated,  and  finally  declined.  He  delivered  one  or  two  lectures  ; 
attempted  to  found  a  magazine  to  be  called  "  The  Stylus  " ;  wrote 
a  speculative  analysis  of  the  universe,  called  "  Eureka,"  and  pub- 
Hshed  by  George  Putnam;  and,  in  1849,  died  in  a  hospital  in 
Baltimore.     He  was  forty  years  and  nine  months  old. 


56  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Such  is  the  outhne  of  Poe's  life  —  a  life  crowded  with  small 
vicissitudes ;  marked  by  exceptional  literary  distinction,  due  en- 
tirely to  his  own  genius ;  and  overshadowed  by  constant  reverses 
and  misfortunes,  mainly  ascribable  to  his  own  faults  of  temper  and 
character.  He  drifted  from  one  friend  or  supporter  to  another, 
never  attaching  himself  long,  and,  like  a  spoiled  child,  making 
what  was  accorded  him  the  basis  for  demanding  more,  and  angry 
if  more  were  not  given.  His  friendships  were  all  one-sided ;  he 
took,  but  yielded  nothing  in  return.  A  prospect  of  prosperity 
only  made  him  restless  and  discontented ;  he  was  fickle  even 
against  his  own  interests.  To  an  unusual  degree  he  was  befriended 
and  assisted  by  women.  He  accepted  their  ministrations,  but 
did  nothing  to  deserve  or  reward  them,  unless  the 
acter  ^^'  exquisite  poems  which  he  based  upon  some  of  them 
are  to  be  considered  their  reward.  Always  proud  and 
vain,  he  was  never  independent ;  and  though  acutely  sensitive  to 
personal  slights  and  attacks,  he  did  not  blush  to  rest  under  the 
obligations  of  charity.  Secretive  he  was,  but  not  reticent;  at 
little  urging  he  would  lay  bare  his  woes,  and  magnify  them  into 
cataclysms.  Himself  destitute  of  the  faculty  of  sympathy,  he  was 
boundless  in  his  demands  on  the  sympathy  of  others.  In  a  word, 
Poe  never  grew  to  the  stature  and  fibre  of  a  man  ;  he  was  never 
able  to  unite  himself  frankly  and  cordially  with  his  fellow-creatures  : 
there  was  always  Poe  on  one  side,  and  everybody  else  on  the  other. 
Because  he  felt  himself  isolated,  he  fancied  himself  superior ;  what 
was  really  a  defect,  he  interpreted  as  a  transcendent  virtue.  In- 
deed, it  is  highly  probable  that  Poe,  in  his  own  eyes,  was  never 
actually  guilty  of  any  fault.  He  would  account  himself  the  victim 
of  circumstance,  of  foes,  of  inherited  temperament ;  but  he  would 
never  accuse  himself  of  conscious  and  voluntary  evil-doing.  In 
short,  as  regarded  his  human  or  social  relations,  he  was  neither 
more  nor  less  than  insane,  though,  of  course,  such  insanity  was 
entirely  consistent  with  right-mindedness  in  matters  removed  from 
the  sphere  and  friction  of  his  daily  existence. 

In  truth,  Poe  was  the  victim  of  the  disproportion  between  his 
nature  and  his  intellect,  —  between  his  character  and  his  genius. 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  57 

His  nature  was  passionate,  but  narrow  and  of  little  depth :  his 
character  was  selfish,  and  undisciplined  by  his  will.  On  the  other 
hand,  his  intellect  was  of  exceptional  force  and  capacity,  as  is 
evidenced  by  his  power  of  close  and  cogent  reasoning,  either  on 
abstract  or  concrete  subjects,  his  retentive  and  ready 
memory,  his  quick  (though  not  intuitive)  insight  into  tio^n^e^een 
complicated  problems,  the  scope  —  wide,  though  not  Ms  nature 
profound  —  of  his  attainments  and  the  fickleness  char-  J^^^g^'^ 
acteristic  of  an  active  mind  unrestrained  by  personal 
weight.  His  genius  resulted  from  the  play  between  his  intellect 
and  his  imagination.  The  latter  faculty  was  of  abnormal  energy ; 
great  in  itself,  but  gaining  added  force  from  the  lack  of  anything 
to  balance  or  control  it.  Poe  was  himself  the  sport  and  puppet 
of  his  own  imagination.  He  permitted  it  to  color  and  direct  his 
actual  life.  It  caused  him  to  regard  himself  as  a  character  in  a 
tale ;  and  many  of  his  fantastic  actions  took  their  rise  in  the  same 
feeling  that  made  him  seek  to  render  interesting  the  personages 
and  events  of  his  fictitious  productions.  It  was  partly  the  in- 
herited histrionic  instinct,  whereby  the  actor  is  never  so  much 
himself  as  when  simulating  some  one  else ;  partly  the  desire  to 
(imaginatively)  escape  the  shackles  of  his  petty  and  inadequate 
nature ;  and  in  part  it  was  unconscious  habit,  begun  in  childhood, 
and  growing  dominant  with  age.  It  was  the  source  of  his  mys- 
tifications, prevarications  and  downright  falsehoods  ;  it  was  the 
uneasy  spirit  that  ever  drove  him  to  turn  from  what  was  good 
to  the  phantom  of  something  better ;  it  was  the  barrier  that  shut 
him  out  from  the  fellowship  of  man ;  while  yet,  in  imagination,  he 
could  conceive  and  yearn  for  intimacies  and  affections  of  which 
his  feeble  and  straitened  natural  constitution  made  him  incapable. 
There  is  real  spiritual  tragedy  in  this  situation ;  and  Poe,  though 
he  felt  its  sting,  could  neither  save  himself,  nor  fathom  the  secret 
of  his  malady. 

But  hostile  though  Poe's  imagination  was  to  his  personal  ease 
and  relations,  —  though  it  took  all  substance  out  of  his  life,  and 
transformed  him  into  an  alien  phantom,  —  it  was  another  thing  in 
its  relation  to  his  literary  product.     When  he  was  at  his  writing- 


58  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

desk  he  was  in  his  proper  place  and  sphere.  It  was  as  natural, 
and  indeed'  as  inevitable,  for  him  to  construct  stories  as  to  think. 
And  these  stories,  in  so  far  as  they  were  successful,  fell  naturally 
into  two  divisions,  —  the  stories  of  quasi- mathematical 
o?stories^  analysis,  with  excursions  into  the  horrible,  the  gro- 
tesque and  the  startling;  and  the  speculative  class, 
including  the  weird,  the  supernatural  and  the  transcendental. 
Under  the  former  category  belong  "The  Gold  Bug,"  "The  Pur- 
loined Letter,"  "  The  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue,"  "  Hans  Pfaal," 
"The  Black  Cat"  ;  under  the  latter,  "The  Fall  of  the  House  of 
Usher,"  "  Ligeia,"  "William  Wilson,"  "A  Tale  of  the  Ragged 
Mountains."  Of  course  these  lists  are  not  intended  to  be  com- 
plete. Among  Poe's  failures  are  all  his  humorous  pieces,  and 
such  ultra- transcendental  efforts  as  "  The  Colloquy  of  Monos  and 
Una  "  and  "  Silence  :  a  Fable." 

Poe  could  not  be  a  humorist,  because  of  his  lack  of  human  sym- 
pathies ;  and  for  the  same  reason  he  could  not  paint  character. 
There  are  no  "  live  "  people  in  his  tales  ;  they  are  the  mechanical 
hinges  on  which  the  events  turn.  And,  despite  the  vivid  interest 
of  Poe's  productions,  their  strangeness,  their  impressiveness,  he 
never  succeeds  in  imparting  the  slightest  color  to  them  ; 
inspiration;  ^^^X  ^^^  exquisitely  ingenious  studies  in  black  and 
result  of  cai-  white,  and  that  is  all.  They  do  not  touch  the  heart, 
analysis.  ^^^  ^^^^  ^°  ^°^  come  from  it,  nor  are  they  aimed  at 
it.  Their  workmanship  is,  in  many  respects,  as  nearly 
perfect  as  it  can  be  made.  The  best  of  them  could  scarcely  be 
improved  in  structure,  in  proportion,  in  artistic  effect.  This  finish 
is  partly  due  to  the  repeated  revision  given  them  by  their  author ; 
many  of  them  were  remodelled  or  rewritten  several  times  after 
their  first  publication.  This  is  characteristic  of  Poe  in  two  ways  : 
it  illustrates  his  intellectual  fastidiousness  and  love  of  accuracy, 
and  it  proves  how  absolutely  wanting  his  tales  are  in  what  is  called 
inspiration.  He  made  them  and  understood  them  as  an  architect 
does  his  house  ;  they  emanate  from  and  they  contain  no  spiritual 
depth :  Poe  had  no  reverence  for  them ;  they  were  structures,  to 
be  modified  and  improved  upon  indefinitely.     But  products  of 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  59 

true  inspiration  are  in  a  manner  sacred  and  wonderful  even  to  their 
author;  he  shrinks  from  meddling  overmuch  with  their  external 
form,  lest  he  should  inadvertently  mar  their  psychical  significance. 
No  such  sentiment  restrained  Poe,  who  hesitated  not  (as  in 
"  Eureka ")  to  reduce  Deity  itself  to  a  mathematical  formula. 
His  curious  speculations  on  the  grave,  and  what  lies  beyond,  are 
curious  and  sensational,  but  soulless ;  he  cares  not  if  what  he 
deduces  be  true,  so  it  produces  its  proper  dramatic  effect.  He 
cannot  be  sincere,  because  he  cannot  be  un-self-conscious,  and 
sincerity  is  the  essence  of  religion. 

Poe's  style  is  illustrative  of  his  qualities.  It  is  precise  and  clear, 
terse  and  telling,  smooth  and  polished,  but  it  is  not  organic  nor 
melodious.  It  is  not  a  flowing,  harmonious  medium,  but  a  labored 
mosaic,  each  sentence  fitted  neatly  to  the  others,  yet  not  con- 
tinuous with  them.  It  is  an  intellectual  style,  and 
there  is  no  homogeneity  in  pure  intellect.  There  is  in  t^autyje*^" 
it  no  long  Atlantic  roll,  no  singing  sweetness,  no  omi- 
nous, mysterious  music,  no  strong,  straightforward  simpHcity.  In- 
deed, it  has  no  individual  flavor  whatever,  though  it  admits  such 
artifices  as  italicized  words  and  shrewd  antitheses.  With  all  his 
shrewdness,  Poe  is  wanting  in  good  taste ;  he  does  not  observe 
the  boundary  line  between  the  legitimately  horrible  and  the  re- 
volting, or  between  playfulness  and  bufl'oonery.  His  highest  flights 
tremble  on  the  verge,  of  the  commonplace  and  the  bathetic,  and 
we  can  seldom  travel  far  with  him  without  feeling  a  jolt  or  a 
hitch. 

All  this,  and  more,  may  be  said  in  criticism  of  Poe ;  but  after 
all  he  is  an  irresistibly  entertaining  writer.     He  may  be  read  with 
pleasure  again  and  again  :  at  his  best  he  is  inimitable. 
It  is  needless  to  insist  upon  his   originality;    he    is   ^^^^  ^ 
original  whether  he  will  or  no,  for  the  history  of  lit- 
erature does  not  show  another  mind  like  his.     In  point  of  view, 
in  aim,  in  method,  he  is  involuntarily  unique.     His  faculty  neither 
improves  nor  deteriorates  :  there  is  no  growth  and  no  decadence. 
It  is  worth  noting  that,  in  his  prose  works,  he  habitually  dispenses 
with  female  characters.     Women  are,  indeed,  occasionally  men- 


60  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

tioned,  but  they  have  no  independent  part  to  play.  In  his  poetry, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  feminine  element  is  almost  invariably  the 
dominant  one,  and  it  also  appears  in  those  stories  whose  motive 
and  treatment  are  most  nearly  allied  to  the  poetical.  And  this 
brings  us  to  a  consideration  of  Poe's  verse. 

"Poetry,"  he  says,  in  his  preface  to  the  "Poems,"  "has  been 
with  me  not  a  purpose,  but  a  passion."  Yet  the  opening  poem  in 
the  volume  is  "The  Raven,"  and,  in  his  essay  on  the  "  Philosophy 
of  Composition,"  he  labors  successfully  to  prove  that  this  most 
famous  of  his  productions  is  a  mechanical  and  deliberate  edifice. 
No  doubt  this  essay  is  itself  written  for  effect,  and  Poe  does  not 
tell  us  where  the  genius  came  from  which  makes  the  poem  what  it 
is,  and  without  which  all  his  rules  and  "considerations"  are  of  no 
avail.  But  the  fact  remains  that  he  here  categorically  and  exhaust- 
ively denies  the  assertion  made  in  his  preface ;  and,  while  admit- 
ting the  genius,  we  still  are  bound  to  remember  the  deliberation. 
Poetry,  then,  was  a  purpose  with  Poe,  though  it  was  a  passion  also. 
It  was  a  passion,  however,  not  of  the  heart,  but  of  the  intellect :  it 
was  a  passion  for  the  beautiful.  And  though  another  poet  tells  us 
that  "  beauty  is  truth,"  and  though  we  know  that  truth  is  Goodness 
in  form,  yet  this  was  not  Poe's  conception  of  the  matter.  Beauty, 
he  says  in  his  essay,  is  not  a  quality,  but  an  effect ;  it  has  to  do 
not  with  the  heart,  but  with  the  "  soul " ;  and  passion  (he  adds) 
demands  a  homeliness  absolutely  antagonistic  to  that  beauty  which 
is  the  true  province  of  poetry.     Poe,  therefore,  was  personally  or 

vitally  involved  in  his  poetry  no  more  than  in  his  prose. 
Us^iK^tt?  °     Many  of  his  poems  are  indeed  suggested  by  incidents 

or  persons  belonging  to  his  actual  life ;  but  all  real 
substance  is  eliminated  from  them,  and  they  become  mere  ab- 
stractions, more  or  less  "beautiful,"  as  the  case  may  be.  No 
doubt,  again,  Poe  would  have  put  himself,  his  heart,  his  nature, 
into  the  poems,  had  anything  of  the  sort  been  available  for  that 
purpose ;  but,  in  the  first  place,  he  did  not  and  could  not  know  his 
real  self,  and  secondly,  had  he  possessed  this  knowledge,  he  would 
have  been  fain  to  confess  himself  in  no  way  suited  to  the  province 
of  the  Beautiful. 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  61 

The  elfin  charm,  the  exquisite  fascination,  the  eerie  beauty  of 
much  of  Poe's  verse  is  nevertheless  incontestable.  At  times  it 
rises  above  the  reach  of  analysis;  there  is  witchcraft  Great  beauty 
in  it,  or,  it  may  be,  something  purer  and  nobler  than  inhispoe- 
witchcraft.  God  is  never  wholly  without  a  witness  in  ^* 
any  soul,  and  Poe  may  have  confessed  God  when  he  little  intended 
or  suspected  it ;  even  as  he  never  was  further  from  Him  than 
when,  in  "  Eureka,"  he  fancied  he  had  caught  Him  in  his  philo- 
sophical trap.  But  the  charm  and  fascination  are  wayward  and 
evanescent ;  sometimes  they  live  in  one  line  and  die  in  the  next ; 
occasionally,  as  in  "To  Helen,"  or  "The  Haunted  Palace,"  they 
endure  throughout ;  and  not  seldom,  as  in  "  Eulalie,"  they  are 
altogether  absent.  For  there  was  no  basis  of  certainty  in  Poe ; 
his  roots  did  not  go  down  into  the  eternal  verities.  He  pleases 
a  certain  mood  or  attitude  of  the  mind,  but  in  our  deeper  mo- 
ments we  do  not  go  to  him.  He  is,  in  himself,  a  psychological 
study  of  profound  interest  and  permanent  significance ;  but  his 
writings  are  like  gems  of  the  earth  —  as  sparkHng  and  splendid, 
but  as  hard  and  as  unnourishing. 

Nor  must  it  be  forgotten  that  Poe's  good  work  is  very  small  in 
quantity,  and  that  he  seems  to  have  more  enjoyed  polishing  what 
he  had  already  done,  than  creating  new  things.  In  the 
twenty  years,  more  or  less,  of  his  productive  period,  he  ^™*^  ****" 
wrote  forty  poems,  and  some  sixty  tales  or  prose  nar- 
ratives. Of  the  poems,  not  more  than  ten,  or  at  most  a  dozen, 
deserve  study ;  and  less  than  a  third  of  the  whole  number  of 
prose  pieces  —  which,  also,  are  uniformly  short.  Poe  contends 
that  quality  and  not  quantity  is  the  essential  in  works  of  art ; 
which  is  true,  but  only  a  partial  truth.  A  great  artist  can  execute 
a  miniature ;  but  a  great  artist,  by  virtue  of  the  energy  and  af- 
fluence that  are  in  him,  is  sure  to  produce  one  or  more  works 
that  are  in  all  senses  great.  The  brevity  and  scarcity  of  Poe's 
output  is  a  sign  of  weakness,  or  poverty  of  generative  faculty.  If 
a  poem  like  "  The  Raven  "  is  merely  a  matter  of  solving  a  definite 
problem,  the  factors  of  which  are  known,  why  did  not  Poe  write 
such  a  poem  as  often  as  once  a  month  ?     Never  was  so  broad  a 


62  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

reputation  built  upon  a  basis  of  actual  achievements  so  narrow,  as 
in  the  case  of  Poe. 

His  critical  and  miscellaneous  work  need  not  detain  us,  the 
former  being  mostly  destructive,  and  the  latter  possessing  no  sig- 
nificant features.  In  person,  Poe  was  of  medium  height,  shght 
and  compact  in  figure,  and  with  a  peculiar  grace  and  dignity  of 
movement.  His  head  and  face  were  strikingly  handsome,  show- 
ing both  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  his  incoherent  per- 
sonality. His  complexion  was  pale,  his  hair  and  eyes  very  dark, 
his  expression  habitually  grave  and  melancholy;  one  who  knew 
him  afiirmed  that  he  "never  smiled."  His  voice,  even  in  mo- 
ments of  excitement,  was  noticeably  low,  and  finely  modulated. 
His  manner,  when  he  was  well  disposed,  was  courteous  and  win- 
ning, though  reserved ;  but  he  can  scarcely  be  said  to  have  been, 
as  Irving,  for  instance,  was,  a  gentleman  to  the  marrow  of  his 
bones.  He  could  display  the  best  of  good  breeding,  as  might  a 
finished  actor  on  the  stage,  when  it  was  his  cue  and  pleasure  to 
do  so ;  but  violence,  rudeness  and  even  coarseness  were  not  less 
characteristic  of  him  upon  occasion.  Had  Poe  possessed  a  small, 
bright  intellect,  proportioned  to  his  nature,  he  would  have  been  a 
happy  and  successful  man,  but  unknown.  Had  he  possessed  a 
nature  commensurate  with  his  intellect,  he  would  have 
confUct^^*^  *  ^^^^  ^"^  ^^  ^^^  greatest  of  the  human  race.  Being 
what  he  was,  his  career  was  a  conflict  and  a  suicide  ; 
yet  he  achieved  things  that  can  never  be  forgotten,  and  his  genius 
has  had  neither  precedent  nor  successor. 

Among  the  minor  writers  of  this  period,  the  following  may  be 
mentioned  :  — 

Susanna  Rowson  (i  761-1824)  wrote  a  novel,  popular  in  its 
day,  chiefly  because  it  was  founded  on  a  local  social  scandal.  It 
was  called  "  Charlotte  Temple." 

Tabitha  Tenney  (1762-1837)  in  her  "Female  Quixotism," 
satirized  the  tearful  and  sentimental  style  of  writing  that  her 
sister-novelist  practised. 


PIONEER  PERIOD.  63 

James  Kirk  Paulding  (i 779-1860)  was  a  friend  of  Irving,  and 
a  collaborator  on  some  of  his  works.  He  wrote  some  of  the  papers 
in  "  Salmagundi/'  and  a  novel,  "  The  Dutchman's  Fireside."  He 
united  sentiment  and  humor,  paid  small  heed  to  art,  was  vivacious 
and  ephemeral.  Other  stories  of  his  are  "  Westward  Ho  "  and 
"  A  Single  Tale." 

N.  P.  Willis  (1806-186 7),  son  of  a  veteran  journalist  of  the 
Revolution,  was  educated  in  Andover  and  Yale,  and  while  still  an 
undergraduate,  pubhshed  a  volume  of  poems  that  gave  him  some 
reputation.  Later,  in  Boston,  he  wrote  tales  and  sketches,  and 
edited  annuals  and,  in  1829,  established  "The  American  Monthly 
Magazine."  In  1831  he  went  abroad  as  foreign  correspondent  of 
the  New  York  "  Mirror."  He  remained  six  years,  and  his  literary 
product  appeared  in  several  volumes,  —  "PenciUings  by  the  Way," 
"Inklings  of  Adventure,"  "Melanie  and  other  Poems."  In  1836  he 
married  an  English  girl,  brought  her  to  America,  and  established 
himself  in  a  farm  on  the  Susquehanna,  which  he  called  "  Glen- 
mary."  Here  he  wrote  numerous  contributions  for  the  "Mirror," 
and  three  successful  plays,  "Bianca  Visconti,"  "The  Betrothal"  and 
"Dying  for  Him."  In  1839  he  started  a  short-lived  eclectic  maga- 
zine, "The  Corsair,"  and  in  1843  a  periodical  called  "The  Evening 
Mirror."  In  1845  his  wife  died;  but,  in  the  following  year,  he 
married  again,  and  became  connected  with  "The  Home  Journal." 
He  sold  Glenmary  and  removed  to  his  second  home,  "  Idlewild," 
on  the  Hudson.  His  latter  days  were  somewhat  overshadowed 
by  debt  and  illness,  but  he  never  ceased  to  work,  until,  in  1867, 
he  died  at  the  age  of  sixty-one.  Besides  the  periodicals  above 
mentioned,  Willis  founded  "The  Youth's  Companion,"  and  pub- 
lished it  for  thirty  years.  His  best  work  was  done  as  a  society 
correspondent.  Neither  his  prose  nor  his  poems  have  stood  the 
test  of  time,  but  they  were  popular  while  he  lived ;  and  Willis 
himself  gained  and  deserved  the  affection  of  all  who  knew  him. 


6+  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


POE. 

Selections  and  Exercises. 
ISRAFEL.1 

In  Heaven  a  spirit  doth  dwell 

"  Whose  heart-strings  are  a  lute  "  ; 

None  sing  so  wildly  well 

As  the  angel  Israfel, 

And  the  giddy  stars  (so  legends  tell), 

Ceasing  their  hymns,  attend  the  spell 
Of  his  voice,  all  mute. 

Tottering  above 

In  her  highest  noon, 

The  enamoured  moon 
Blushes  with  love. 

While,  to  Hsten,  the  red  levin 

(With  the  rapid  Pleiads,  even. 

Which  were  seven). 

Pauses  in  heaven. 

And  they  say  (the  starry  choir 

And  the  other  listening  things) 
That  Israfeli's  fire 
Is  owing  to  that  lyre 

By  which  he  sits  and  sings  — 
The  trembling  living  wire 

Of  those  unusual  strings. 

1  And  the  angel,  Israfel,  whose  heart-strings  are  a  lute,  and  who  has  the 
sweetest  voice  of  all  God's  creatures.  —  Koran. 


POE.  65 

But  the  skies  that  angel  trod, 

Where  deep  thoughts  are  a  duty — 
Where  Love's  a  grown-up  God  — 

Where  the  Houri  glances  are 

Imbued  with  all  the  beauty 

Which  we  worship  in  a  star. 

Therefore,  thou  art  not  wrong, 

IsrafeH,  who  despisest 
An  unimpassioned  song; 
To  thee  the  laurels  belong, 

Best  bard,  because  the  wisest ! 
Merrily  live,  and  long  ! 

The  ecstasies  above 

With  thy  burning  measures  suit  — 
Thy  grief,  thy  joy,  thy  hate,  thy  love. 

With  the  fervor  of  thy  lute  — 

Well  may  the  stars  be  mute  ! 

Yet  Heaven  is  thine ;    but  this 
Is  a  world  of  sweets  and  sours ; 
Our  flowers  are  merely  —  flowers, 

And  the  shadow  of  thy  perfect  bliss 
Is  the  sunshine  of  ours. 

If  I  could  dwell 
Where  Israfel 
Hath  dwelt,  and  he  where  I, 
He  might  not  sing  so  wildly  well 

A  mortal  melody, 
While  a  bolder  note  than  this  might  swell 
From  my  lyre  within  the  sky. 

Exercise.  —  Upon  what  is  the  poem  founded  ?  What  figure 
does  the  quoted  sentence  contain?  What  was  his  power?  What 
was  the  condition  of  the  heaven  in  which  he  sang?     Why  is  he 


66  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

the  best  bard  ?  How  does  the  poet's  lot  contrast  with  the  angel's  ? 
If  the  two  could  change  places,  what  would  be  the  result?  Study 
the  technical  structure  of  this  poem ;  it  would  be  difficult  to  find 
elsewhere,  in  an  equal  compass,  so  much  skill  and  beauty. 


DREAM-LAND. 


By  a  route  obscure  and  lonely. 

Haunted  by  ill  angels  only. 

Where  an  Eidolon,  named  Night, 

On  a  black  throne  reigns  upright, 

I  have  reached  these  lands  but  newly 

From  an  ultimate  dim  Thule  — 

From  a  wild,  weird  clime  that  lieth,  sublime. 

Out  of  Space  —  out  of  Time. 

Bottomless  vales  and  boundless  floods. 
And  chasms,  and  caves,  and  Titan  woods. 
With  forms  that  no  man  can  discover 
For  the  dews  that  drip  all  over; 
Mountains  toppling  evermore 
Into  seas  without  a  shore; 
Seas  that  restlessly  aspire, 
Surging  into  skies  of  fire ; 
Lakes  that  endlessly  outspread 
Their  lone  waters  —  lone  and  dead  — 
Their  still  waters  —  still  and  chilly  — 
With  the  snows  of  the  lolling  Hly. 

By  the  lakes  that  thus  outspread 
Their  lone  waters,  lone  and  dead, — 
Their  sad  waters,  sad  and  chilly 
With  the  snows  of  the  lolling  lily,  — 
By  the  mountains — -near  the  river 
Murmuring  lowly,  murmuring  ever,  — 


FOE.  67 

By  the  gray  woods,  —  by  the  swamp 
Where  the  toad  and  the  newt  encamp, — 
By  the  dismal  tarns  and  pools 

Where  dwell  the  Ghouls, — 
By  each  spot  the  most  unholy  — 
In  each  nook  most  melancholy,  — 
There  the  traveller  meets  aghast 
Sheeted  Memories  of  the  Past  — 
Shrouded  forms  that  start  and  sigh 
As  they  pass  the  wanderer  by  — 
White-robed  forms  of  friends  long  given, 
In  agony  to  the  Earth  —  and  Heaven. 

For  the  heart  whose  woes  are  legion 
'Tis  a  peaceful,  soothing  region  — 
For  the  spirit  that  walks  in  shadow 
Tis  —  oh,  'tis  an  Eldorado! 
But  the  traveller,  travelling  through  it. 
May  not  —  dare  not  openly  view  it ; 
Never  its  mysteries  are  exposed 
To  the  weak  human  eye  unclosed; 
So  wills  its  King,  who  hath  forbid 
The  uplifting  of  the  fringed  lid ; 
And  thus  the  sad  Soul  that  here  passes 
Beholds  it  but  through  darkened  glasses. 

By  a  route  obscure  and  lonely, 
Haunted  by  ill  angels  only. 
Where  an  Eidolon  named  Night 
On  a  black  throne  reigns  upright, 
I  have  wandered  home  but  newly 
From  this  ultimate  dim  Thule. 

Exercise.  —  Look  up  the  proper  nouns,  and  the  words  of  which 
you  do  not  know  the  meaning.  How  does  he  reach  the  land? 
Where  does  it  he?  Where  is  he  from?  What  reigns?  Describe 
the  land.     What  is  the  allegory  ? 


68  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

General.  —  Study  "The  Poetic  Principle"  if  you  have  access 
to  it;  also  "The  Rationale  of  Verse."  They  present  the  author's 
theory  of  verse.  Are  the  points  true  ?  Does  he  follow  his  own 
theories  ? 

Has  the  poet  any  long  poems  ?  Dramas  ?  Narrative  poems  ? 
What  emotion  do  they  most  affect  ?  Are  there  love  lyrics  ?  Lyrics 
of  patriotism?  Martial  lyrics?  Select  some  of  his  most  melo- 
dious poems ;  study  his  method  of  producing  the  melody.  Are 
his  poems  sensuous  ?  Simple  and  placid  ?  Do  they  produce  an 
exaltation?  Do  they  stimulate  ambition?  Do  they  please  you? 
If  so,  by  what  qualities  ?  Do  they  bring  consolation  ?  Are  they 
didactic?  Do  they  show  fancy?  Imagination?  Humor? 
Tragedy?  Is  he  a  poet  of  nature?  Is  he  metaphysical?  Philo- 
sophical? Impulsive?  Impassioned?  Does  he  put  art,  truth, 
or  beauty  first?  Do  you  find  skill  in  versification?  In  what 
particulars  ? 


SOME  STATESMEN  AND  HISTORIANS,  69 


SOME   STATESMEN   AND   HISTORIANS. 

Neither  the  War  of  1812  with  England  nor  the  Mexican  War 
provoked  much  poHtical  oratory  in  America.     No  new  or  com- 
manding principles  were  involved  in  them.     Our  rights  as  against 
England  were  too  obvious  to  admit  of  discussion,  though  at  first 
an  anti-war  party,  based  on  economical  and  prudential  grounds, 
did  exist.     But  as  the  nation's  blood  warmed  to  the 
conflict,  the  dissentients  lost  ground.    As  to  the  Mexi-  ^^s.°^^°^ 
can  affair,  its  chief  contribution  to  literature  was  the 
"  Biglow  Papers  "  of  James  Russell  Lowell,  satirizing  the  motives 
animating   this   country.      Our  attitude  was  not,  perhaps,  easily 
defensible  on  grounds  of  high  morality ;  but  the  war  was  a  natural 
and  an  expedient  one,  and  its  results  were  unquestionably  bene- 
ficial. 

There  was,  however,  at  our  own  doors  and  within  them,  a  topic 
that  stimulated,  deserved  and  received  the  most  exhaustive  analy- 
sis and  discussion,  and  that  produced  eloquence  quite  as  impas- 
sioned and  exalted  as  did    the    Revolutionary  cause 

itself.     This  was  the  institution  of  slavery,  which,  in  5?^f?^f 

^ '  '         vital  topic. 

the  progress  of  its  development,  involved  a  profound 
discussion  of  the  rights  and  powers  of  the  states  in  their  rela- 
tions to  the  Federal  Government.  A  small,  extreme  party  at 
the  North  insisted  for  many  years  on  the  immediate  and  uncon- 
ditional abolition  of  slavery;  a  larger,  more  conservative  party, 
while  granting  that  slavery  in  the  states  which  had  been  par- 
ties to  the  original  compact  that  formed  the  Union  was  pro- 
tected by  the  Constitution,  was  yet  opposed,  on  moral  grounds, 
to  its  extension  into  new  territory  acquired  by  the  United 
States.     As  new  territories  appUed  for  admission  into  the  Union 


70  AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 

as  States,  the  controversy  as  to  whether  they  should  enter  as 
"free"  or  "slave"  states  arose  again  and  again,  growing  more 
bitter  and  uncompromising  with  each  renewal.  At  first  the  party 
of  the  North,  while  granting  the  constitutional  rights  of  the  original 
slave-holding  states,  urged  that  the  framers  of  the  Constitution, 
by  limiting  importation  of  slaves  to  a  period  of  twenty  years  from 
the  time  of  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution,  looked  to  the  gradual 
extinction  of  slavery,  and  that  it  would  be  inconsistent  with  that 
purpose  and  morally  wrong  to  provide  for  its  extension  and  growth. 
The  Southern  States  contended  that  they  had  sacrificed  as  much 
The  widen-  ^"  forming  the  Union  as  had  any  other  section,  and 
ingfofthe  that  one  of  the  conditions .  of  the  compact  was  the 
breach.  protection  of  this  institution ;    that  it  was   in  viola- 

tion of  the  spirit  of  the  Constitution  and  a  breach  of  faith  for 
the  party  of  the  North  to  seek  to  prohibit  slavery  in  new  terri- 
tory, for  the  acquisition  of  which  the  South  had  contributed  her 
share  of  treasure  and  blood.  Prohibition  of  slavery  in  these  new 
states  meant  the  exclusion  of  slave-holders  from  them ;  it  meant 
that  the  slave-holding  people  should  be  confined  to  the  area 
originally  occupied  at  the  birth  of  the  nation,  while  the  non- 
slave-holding  people  spread  as  the  nation  expanded,  and  grew 
with  its  prosperity.  The  party  at  the  North  wished  all  the  new 
states  to  be  "free  " ;  the  party  at  the  South  was  willing  to  divide 
the  territory  so  that  equal  portions  should  be  "  free  "  and  "  slave." 
The  Northern  party  insisted  that  the  terms  upon  which  the  new 
states  entered  the  Union  should  be  dictated  by  the  Federal  Gov- 
ernment; the  Southern  leaders  thought  that  each  state  had  the 
exclusive  right  to  regulate  its  own  domestic  concerns,  and  that 
the  people  who  sought  admission  should  be  allowed  to  decide  for 
themselves  whether  they  would  enter  as  free  or  slave  states. 

Between  the  beginning  of  the  agitation  in  1 790  and  its  culmi- 
nation in  i860,  the  subject  passed  through  many  phases  of  adjust- 
ment and  compromise.  The  vital  antagonism  of  the  principles 
involved  called  for  profound  consideration  ;  and,  as  has  been  said, 
minds  competent  to  deal  with  fundamental  problems  of  govern- 
ment were  not  wanting. 


SOME   STATESMEN  AND  HISTORIANS. 


71 


The  most  distinguished  advocate  of  the  States  Rights  Doctrine 
was  the  South  CaroHnian  senator,  John  C.  Calhoun  (i  782-1850). 
The  Union,  in  his  opinion,  was  a  Union  not  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  country  as  a  whole,  but  of  the  separate  and  distinct  states ;  and 
the   General   Congress,  representing   at   most   but   an   authority 
delegated,  under  limitations,  for  convenience'  sake*  had  no  right 
to  control  the  concerns  of  the  independent  members 
of  the  federation.     In   other  words,  the   Union  was  position  in 
not  a  comprehensive  or  homogeneous  organism,  but  thecontro- 
an    assemblage    of    friendly   powers,   willing    to   act  ^^^^' 
together  when  expedience  dictated,  but  otherwise  free  to  follow 
their  own  counsels.   This  was  not  new  doctrine  :  the  same  thought, 
variously  expressed,  had  come  to  the 
surface  time  and  again  in  discussions 
of  the  Constitution.      But  Calhoun 
elaborated    the    proposition  into  a 
system;  he  preached  the  doctrine 
through  a  long   life    spent  in  high 
station ;  he  made  it  so  potent  that 
it  controlled  the  action  of  his  state 
on  all  important  occasions.    After  his 
death,  the  Southern  States  seceded 
from  the  Union  with  this  doctrine  as 
their  explanation   and   justification. 
However,  he  carried  the  doctrine  to 
an  extreme  degree,  endorsed  by  his 
own  state,  but  beyond  the  sanction 
of  the    other  Southern  States.     In 

defending  the  famous  South  Carolina  Nullification  Ordinance  of 
'32,  he  asserted  that  each  state  was  the  judge  of  the  legality  and 
constitutionality  of  any  act  of  Congress.  Unreasonable  as  such 
a  proposition  seems  now,  and  as  it  seemed  then  to  a  majority 
of  Americans,  it  was  not  novel  doctrine  in  his  time  ;  while  no 
other  Southern  State  "  nullified "  any  of  the  acts  of  Congress, 
many  of  the  Northern  States  "  nullified 
in  '53- 


John  C.  Calhoun. 


the  Fugitive  Slave  Law 


72  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Calhoun's  speeches  are  marked  by  close,  severe,  telling  logic 
and  impassioned  earnestness,  and  show  him  to  have  been  a 
rhetorician  of  great  skill  and  persuasiveness.  He  was  a  man  of 
aggressive  temper  and  intrepid  moral  courage.  Webster  said 
of  his  style  of  oratory  :  "  His  eloquence  was  part  of  his  intellectual 
Webster's  cHaracter.  It  was  plain,  strong,  terse,  condensed, 
character-  concise  ;  sometimes  impassioned,  still  always  severe. 
Rejecting  ornament,  not  often  seeking  far  for  illustra- 
tion, his  power  consisted  in  the  plainness  of  his  propositions,  in 
the  closeness  of  his  logic,  and  in  the  earnestness  and  energy  of 
his  manner." 

But  there  was  a  violent  party  at  the  North  that  insisted  on  the 
abolition  of  slavery  without  regard  to  law  or  Constitution ;  and  as 
early  as  1831,  William  Lloyd  Garrison  (1805-1879),  a  printer,  of 
Massachusetts,  published  a  weekly  paper  called  "  The  Liberator," 
to  defend  the  proposition  thaf  slave-holding,  apart  from  all  poHti- 
cal  considerations,  was  a  moral  crime,  and  ought  to  be  stamped 
out  at  all  costs.  The  integrity  of  the  Union  was  endangered  by 
the  principles  of  Calhoun  on  the  one  side,  and  by  those  of  Gar- 
rison on  the  other.  Garrison  was  a  characteristic  product  of  New 
England,  in  respect  of  indomitable  energy,  courage  and  persist- 
ence ;  but  he  differed  from  the  early  Puritans  in  the  radicalism 
The  position  ^^^  eccentricity  of  many  of  his  views.  In  common 
of  anAholi-  with  others  of  his  time,  he  had  developed  the  doc- 
trines of  human  freedom  contained  in  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  and  the  Constitution,  until  he  found  him- 
self in  an  attitude  of  criticism  towards  all  forms  of  government ; 
and  his  religious  convictions  were  also  peculiar.  Nothing  less 
than  absolute  and  uncompromising  right  would  satisfy  him ;  no 
gradual  or  partial  measures  looking  to  emancipation  were  to 
be  tolerated.  Country,  patriotism,  national  power,  were  as  nothing 
in  his  eyes,  if  they  obstructed  the  discharge  of  a  moral  duty. 
He  wrote  much,  and  in  grim  earnest,  not  only  in  the  several 
periodicals  that  he  edited,  but  in  private  letters  to  correspon- 
dents ;  and  the  burden  of  his  utterances  was  ever  the  same,  — 


SOME   STATESMEN  AND  HISTORIANS. 


73 


abolish  slavery,  and  abolish  it  at  once  !     His  vehemence  made 
him  a  leader,  and  his  disciples  called  themselves  the  Abohtionists. 
Men  like  Wendell  Phillips  (1811-1884)  and  Charles  Sumner 
(1811-1874)   allied    themselves    to    this   new  party,  and,  in  the 
teeth  of  ridicule  and  hostility,  exhorted  the  North  and  antago- 
nized the  South,  in  season  and  out  of  season.     Phillips,  unhke 
Garrison,  was  a  man  of  fine  education,  and  a  speaker  of  con- 
summate eloquence.      He  never  held,  nor  cared  to 
hold,    a   position    under    government ;    but    on    the   ^^  orator^ 
lecture-platform,  which  was  at  that  time  at  its  height 
of  popularity,  he  was  an  influence  and  a  stimulus  of  unsurpassed 
effectiveness.      He   could   state   and    argue    a    proposition   with 
extraordinary  clearness  and    force,   and  commanded   every  rhe- 
torical   art    for   the   expression   of  scorn,   sarcasm,   denunciation 
and   humanitarianism.      He   delighted   in   opposition,  and   con- 
stantly faced   and   defied  and  not  seldom  conquered  audiences 
who  were  all  but  ready  to  offer 
him  bodily  violence.     Patriot  he 
cannot  be  termed,  and,  ardently 
though  he  professed  to  love   re- 
form,  he  probably  loved  speak- 
ing on  it  even  better.      Sumner 
was  in  the  Senate  from  the  age 
of  forty  until  his  death:  in  1856 
he  was  personally  chastised  in  the 
Senate  Chamber  by  a  Southerner 
named    Brooks,  and   suffered   in 
health   but  gained  in  popularity 
ever  after.     He  was  an  elaborate 
and  lucid  logician,  and  his  per- 
sonal integrity  and  intolerance  of 
injustice  were  genuine ;    but  he 

was  vain,  selfish  and  domineering,  and  his  boorish  manners  made 
him  many  enemies.  He  represented  the  views  of  the  Abohtionists 
in  Congress. 


Charles  Sumner. 


74 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Between  the  extremists  of  both  parties  stood  the  figures  of 
Henry  Clay  (i 777-1852)  of  Kentucky  and  Daniel  Webster 
(1782-185  2)  of  Massachusetts.  Throughout  the  bitter  contro- 
versy of  the  contending  sections,  they  took  a  temperate  course. 


Daniel  Webster 


At  the  beginning  of  the  life  of  the  Union,  slavery  was  found  in 
all  parts  of  the  country;  and  though  not  a  few  good  men,  in 
The  erowinff  ^°^^  ^^  South  and  the  North,  held  slavery  to  be 
strength  of  morally  a  wrong,  yet  of  its  legality  there  was  no 
the  Union.  question.  But  the  bond  holding  the  states  together 
was  at  the  outset  weak ;  and,  for  one  cause  or  another,  particular 
states,  both  at  the  North  and  at  the  South,  had  passed  resolutions 
putting  its  integrity  in  jeopardy.  As  time  went  on,  however,  the  love 
of  the  Union  increased  in  the  hearts  of  the  people  of  all  sections, 
until  no  petty  disagreement  could  have  shaken  it.  But  when  the 
question  of  slavery  arose,  it  was  felt  to  be  not  a  petty,  but  a  vital  one. 
For  a  good  many  years  slaves  had  been  growing  fewer  at  the 
North,  and  had  increased  in  number  at  the  South,  and  along 
Chaneein  ^^^^  ^^'^  altered  distribution  came  a  development 
thesitua-  of  Northern  sentiment  against  slavery.  The  Noi;th 
*^°^*  now  wished  the    Federal   Government   to   restrict   a 

practice   in  which   they   had   themselves    formerly   participated. 


SOME   STATESMEN  AND  HISTORIANS.  75 

But  many  persons  in  the  North,  and  the  great  majority  at  the 
South,  held  government  interference  with  slavery  to  be  uncon- 
stitutional, and  in  1838,  by  a  vote  of  more  than  two  to  one, 
the  Senate  resolved  that  any  interference  with  slavery  "tended 
to  weaken  and  destroy  the  Union." 

The  dispute  as  to  the  right  of  slave-holding  states  to  continue 
to  hold  them  was  not,  however,  a  really  critical  one.  It  was  on 
the  question  as  to  the  extension  of  the  institution 
into  virgin  territory  that  the  serious  conflict  arose.  The  hour  and 
Conservative  people  on  both  sides  wished  to  pre- 
serve the  Union ;  but  it  was  soon  perceived  that  great  conces- 
sions by  both  parties  were  indispensable  to  prevent  disaster. 
There  was  need  of  statesmen  sagacious  enough  to  appreciate 
the  gravity  of  the  danger,  and  wise  enough  to  avoid  it.  Clay 
and  Webster  fulfilled  these  conditions.  Their  controlling  aim 
was  to  preserve  the  Union;  and,  so  long  as  they  lived,  they 
were  able  to  devise  some  scheme  of  compromise  popularly  ser- 
viceable ;  and  it  was  only  ten  years  after  their  death  that  the 
"  irrepressible  conflict "  had  to  be  submitted  to  the  arbitrament 
of  arms. 

Henry  Clay,  a  Virginian  by  birth,  a  Whig  (as  the  heirs  of  the 
Federalists  were  called)  in  politics,  and  representing  xheworkof 
Kentucky  in  the  Senate,  succeeded,  by  dint  of  the  Great 
painting  in  vivid  colors  the  perils  of  dissension,  ^^<^i^*<^^to*"* 
and  by  devising  a  modus  vivendi  in  each  disagreement  as  it 
arose,  in  postponing  the  inevitable  crisis.  The  Nullification 
Law  of  1833  was  the  first  result  of  his  mediation;  then  came 
the  Missouri  Compromise,  forbidding  slavery  above  latitude 
36°  30';  and  finally  the  Compromise  of  1850,  providing  that 
California  should  enter  under  its  own  constitution,  that  the 
slave-trade  be  abolished  in  the  District  of  Columbia,  that  Utah 
and  New  Mexico  decide  for  themselves  upon  slavery  and  that  a 
more  effective  Fugitive  Slave  Law  be  passed.  Clay's  manner  was 
winning  and  persuasive,  while  his  utterances  were  more  remark- 
able for  earnestness  and  justness  than  for  profundity  or  compelling 
power.     Few  great  statesmen  have  been  the  object  of  so  much 


76  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

personal  affection  as  Clay :  yet  he  was  thrice  defeated  for  the 
presidency.  He  deplored  the  existence  of  slavery,  but  was  alive 
to  the  unwisdom  of  drastic  measures,  and  looked  to  its  gradual 
discontinuance. 
y  Webster  was  the  strong  man  of  that  age.  Educated  at  Dart- 
/  mouth,  he  was  an  orator  at  eighteen,  and  from  the  outset  was 
loyal  to  one  overruling  sentiment,  which  recurs  again  and  again, 

in  varied   forms,  in    his    great   orations,  and   is   em- 
oneideT'^       bodied    in    that    memorable    phrase,  —  '' Liberty  and 

Union,  now  and  forever,  one  and  inseparable  ! " 
All  his  political  effort,  from  first  to  last,  was  to  incline  men  and 
events  into  conformity  with  this  principle.  All  that  he  did 
was  done  with  this  end  in  view,  and  nothing  that  he  ever 
said  was  inconsistent  with  it.  He  was  a  man  of  one  idea; 
but  it  was  an  idea  fit  to  monopolize  a  giant  mind.  In  him 
the  nature  was  adequate  to  the  intellect,  and  there  was  no  man 
whose  physical  aspect  so  well  corresponded  with  his  mental  repu- 
tation. A  writer  who  knew  him  said  :  "  Such  a  figure,  such  an 
intellect,  such  a  heart,  were  never  before  combined  to  awe  the 
world.  The  vast  plan  of  him  :  the  front  of  Jove ;  the  regal, 
commanding  air  which  cleared  a  path  before  him ;  the  voice  of 
thunder  and  of  music  which  revealed  the  broad  cavenis  of  his 
chest ;  the  unfathomable  eye  which  no  sculptor  could  render,  — 
all  these  external  signs  said,  '  Here  is  a  Man  ! '  It  will  take  an 
aeon  to  compose  another  such  man  as  Webster.  The  idea  of 
greatness  is  inseparable  from  him.  He  had  a  heart  of  deep 
power  and  love ;  that  the  humblest  of  his  friends  loved  him  the 
most,  was  proof  of  a  large  kindliness  and  benignity,  revealed  out- 
•  wardly  by  the  sweet  grandeur  of  his  smile.  The  melancholy  of 
his  kingly  face,  the  deep  beyond  deep  of  gloom  beneath  his 
brows,  were  affecting  and  awful."  Webster  began  life  as  a  lawyer ; 
and  his  speech  for  the  prosecution  in  the  White  murder  case  in 
Salem,  delivered  in  April,  1830,  immediately  after  a  rapid  and 
exhausting  journey,  is  one  of  the  best  examples  of  his  literary 
powers.  Indeed,  it  is  one  of  the  noblest  examples  of  literary 
composition  in  our  literature,  being  at  times  equal  in  this  respect 


SOME   STATESMEN  AND  HISTORIANS.  77 

to  the  prose  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  himself.  The  picture  of 
the  murder,  and  of  the  state  of  mind  of  the  murderer,  are  models 
of  power,  directness  and  simplicity ;  and,  as  delivered  by  Web- 
ster's organ-tones,  and  emphasized  by  his  gesture  and  facial 
expression,  may  well  have  been  unforgetable. 

His  later  political  orations  were  couched  in  a  less  simple  style, 
being  designed  for  another  kind  of  audience.  It  was  a  style 
peculiar  to  Webster,  and,  like  the  bow  of  Ulysses,  only  its  owner 
could  wield  it.  From  any  other  lips  it  would  have 
seemed  grandiloquent  and  pompous;  but  his  nature  th^nS*°'^°^ 
was  so  large,  majestic  and  imposing  that  this  ap- 
peared his  proper  utterance.  Only  the  largest  emergencies  were 
large  enough  for  him  to  deal  with ;  and  when,  as  occasionally 
happened,  he  was  called  on  to  speak  on  some  ordinary  theme, 
it  was  like  harnessing  Niagara  to  run  a  saw-mill.  But  with  the 
integrity  of  the  Union  depending  on  his  words,  he  was  in  his 
proper  sphere,  and  the  measure  of  the  man  and  of  the  theme 
were  one.,    His  genius  had  the  breadth  of  the  Continent. 

While  the  bitterness  of  political  feeling  was  yet  in  some  degree 
repressed,  Webster  had  the  confidence  of  the  country.  His 
presence  was  considered  indispensable  at  times  of  national  com- 
memoration and  festival :  such  as  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone 
of  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  and  its  completion  seventeen  years 
later;  the  memorial  exercises  at  Plymouth  Rock,  and  at  Faneuil 
Hall ;  the  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  birth  of  George  Washing- 
ton, and  the  like.  But,  with  the  growing  acerbity  of  sectional 
animosities,  the  extremists  began  to  murmur  because  Webster 
refused  to  join  their  war-dances  and  echo  their  threats.  They 
accused  him  of  temporizing  and  trimming,  of  yielding  to  bluster, 
of  flattering  plutocracy,  and  even  of  betraying  the  public  weal  for 
the  ends  of  his  personal  ambition.  But  these  persons  were  vic- 
tims of  the  same  sort  of  optical  illusion  that  leads  the  uninstructed 
to  suppose  that  the  sun  revolves  round  the  earth. 
Webster  remained  steadfastly  in  one  place,  and  '^^^^^^^^^^ 
uttered  consistently  the  same  sentiments ;  it  was 
they,  and  not   he,  who   drifted   from  moorings.      The  man  who 


78  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

does  not  yield  to  the  hallucinations  and  passions  of  his  contem- 
poraries must  ever  appear  to  them  the  one  misguided  and 
depraved  individual;  but  time  reverses  the  unjust  verdict,  and 
puts  the  blame  where  it  belongs. 

When,  on  the  yth  of  March,  1850,  Webster  rose  to  speak  to 
the  measure  suggested  by  Henry  Clay,  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say 
that  the  attention  not  only  of  Congress  but  of  the  whole  people 
was  riveted  upon  him.  A  timid  or  a  self-seeking  man  would  have 
striven  to  placate  one  side  or  the  other ;  but  for  Webster  there 
was  no  thought  save  to  utter  the  whole  truth  as  he  saw  it,  for  the 
welfare  not  of  the  parties  of  the  moment,  but  of  the  generations  to 
come.  He  threw  his  whole  majestic  and  profound  soul  into  the 
„       ^,  effort :    and  the  speech  that  followed  was  the  com- 

appeal  for  pletest  and  most  powerful  expression  of  his  life- 
impartial  iQj^pr  convictions  that  he  had  ever  uttered.  Leaning 
judgment. 

neither  to  the  one  side  nor  to  the  other,  he  revealed 

their  errors  to  both  South  and  North,  and  bade  them  consider 
how  irrevocably  disastrous  must  be  the  result  of  a  false  step 
at  such  a  crisis.  He  rebuked  the  hare-brained  and  premature 
zeal  of  the  Abolitionists ;  and  the  picture  he  drew  of  the  conse- 
quences to  the  South  of  secession  was  of  such  convincing  force 
as  to  delay  for  a  decade  their  resort  to  that  alternative.  But  the 
virtue  of  impartiality  is  to  partisans  the  least  forgivable  of  crimes ; 
and  when  Webster  sat  down,  though  he  had  earned  the  gratitude 
of  posterity,  he  had  ahenated  half  his  friends,  and  inflamed  his 
enemies  beyond  limit.  The  mildest  censures  passed  upon  him 
were  that  he  had  done  evil  that  good  might  come  of  it ;  that  like 
Lucifer  he  had  fallen  from  a  fatal  ambition ;  that  he  was  a  man 
of  mighty  faculties  and  Httle  aims,  whose  life  no  high  purpose  had 
endowed  with  reality.  He  died  two  years  later,  too  soon  by  far 
to  see  the  tide  of  opinion  change  :  but  he  had  done  his  duty  in 
the  face  ,of  gigantic  difficulties  and  temptations,  and  this  reflec- 
tion made  his  deathbed  serene. 

His  eulogy  was  pronounced  by  his  friend  and  sympathizer,  Rufus 
Choate  (i 799-1859),  the  foremost  lawyer  of  his  time,  and  dis- 
tinguished for  his  sumptuous  forensic  eloquence.     He  was  chosen 


SOME   STATESMEN  AND  HISTORIANS.  79 

senator  in  his  forty-second  year,  but  his  fame  was  won  at  the  bar ; 
his  intellect  being  specially  adapted  to  the  analysis  of  evidence 
and  to  the  subduing  of  juries.  The  quality  of  such  efforts  now 
rests  chiefly  upon  hearsay ;  but  his  printed  orations,  and  especially 
the  Webster  eulogy  of  1853,  prove  an  elevated,  if  somewhat  too 
euphemistic  literary  style.  Edward  Everett  (i 794-1865),  how- 
ever, was  the  great  euphemist  of  that  age  ;  he  studied  and  polished 
his  speeches  until  they  reached  a  pitch  of  rhetorical  perfection 
unexampled  since  the  days  of  Greek  and  Latin  oratory.  The 
fashion  has  gone  by  for  such  elaborate  art  and  artifice,  but  it  was 
precisely  suited  to  the  audiences  to  which  Everett 
appealed.  He  appeared  to  remain  always  in  a  guphemist 
state  of  admiring  contemplation,  of  pensive  reminis- 
cence, of  glowing  premonition  over  something,  it  mattered  little 
what.  His  smooth-flowing,  musical  sentences  have  nowhere  a 
hitch  or  a  discord ;  he  rang  all  the  changes  on  sweetness, 
pathos,  sentiment,  optimistic  prophecy.  He  exploited  the  re- 
quirements of  culture  to  the  ultimate  degree  of  fastidiousness ; 
even  religion  and  morality,  under  his  touch,  are  made  to 
seem  pretty,  touching  and  graceful,  rather  than  searching  or 
sublime.  There  was  a  ladylike  quality  in  his  deliverances  —  a 
deficiency  of  rugged  and  resonant  masculine  fibre — which  removes 
them  somewhat  from  the  sympathies  of  to-day.  Everett  achieved 
public  distinction  of  a  high  and  varied  kind,  and  had  the  best 
education  that  America  and  Europe  could  provide.  He  was,  at 
different  times,  a  professor  at  Harvard,  and  president  of  that 
institution  ;  a  clergyman  ;  a  poet ;  a  grammarian ;  a  United  States 
minister ;  a  member  of  both  houses  of  Congress ;  a  Secretary  of 
State  ;  and  a  governor.  He  failed  of  election  as  Vice-President  in 
i860,  and  though  he  has  been  but  twenty-five  years  in  the  grave, 
he  has  already  faded  out  of  men's  memories.  Among  other 
public  men  of  the  period  may  be  mentioned  John  Quincy  Adams 
(i 767-1848),  a  President  of  the  United  States,  a  versifier  and  a 
Shakespearian  critic;  Robert  Charles  Winthrop  (b.  1809),  who 
wrote,  among  other  things,  the  addresses  in  the  beginning  and  at 
the  completion  of  the  Washington  Monument ;  Jefferson  Davis 


80  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

(1808-1889),  President  of  the  Confederacy,  author  of  "The  Rise 
and  Fall  of  the  Confederate  Government,"  one  of  the  most 
trenchant  controversialists  America  can  show ;  Alexander  H. 
Stephens  (181 2-1883),  author  of  "A  Pictorial  History  of  the 
United  States"  and  "The  War  between  the  States,"  an  eminently 
temperate  and  luminous  writer  upon  constitutional  construction ; 
William  Henry  Seward  (1801-18 72),  of  Lincoln's  Cabinet, 
author  of  a  "  Diplomatic  History  of  the  Civil  War " ;  and 
Abraham  Lincoln  (i  809-1 865),  the  War  President,  admired 
and  respected  by  both  friends  and  foes,  who,  though  anything  but 
a  Uterary  man,  was  among  America's  history-makers,  and  whose 
inaugural  and  farewell  addresses,  and  commemorative  speech  at 
Gettysburg,  are  unsurpassed  for  dignity,  simplicity  and  lofty  and 
manly  sentiment. 

The  minds  that  make  history  and  the  minds  that  record  it  are 
in  categories  widely  different,  yet  they  cannot  be  placed  more 
fitly  than  side  by  side.  We  depend  upon  the  latter  for  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  former;  historians  are  the  complement  of  men  of 
action,  whose  lives  they  pass  their  lives  in  studying  and  interpret- 
ing ;  and  their  work,  at  its  best,  is  only  less  important  than  the 
best  imaginative  literature,  —  which  surpasses  both  action  and 
record,  being,  humanly  speaking,  immortal.  The  great  historians 
are,  indeed,  necessarily  .men  of  creative  imagination,  or,  more 
accurately,  re-creative,  giving  us  the  picture  and  the  meaning  not 
of  the  ideal  that  might  be,  but  of  the  reality  that  has  been. 

Setting  aside  the  early  historians  from  Governor  Hutchinson  to 
Abiel  Holmes,  whose  useful  and  conscientious  but  unreadable 
works  have  been  supplanted  by  those  of  later  investigators,  with 
broader  opportunities  and  better  methods,  we  find  a  pious  and 
laborious  Connecticut  Yankee,  Jared  Sparks  (i  789-1866),  as 
the  author  of  a  number  of  historical  biographies  of  important  per- 
sonages, beginning  with  the  "  Life  and  Writings  of 
AMogra-  George  Washington,"  in  twelve  large  octavo  volumes, 
continuing  in  the  "  Life  of  Gouverneur  Morris," 
the  "  Library  of  American  Biography,"  in  twenty-five  volumes, 
all   of  which   he    edited    and    some   of    which   he   wrote ;    the 


SOME   STATESMEN  AND   HISTORIANS.  81 

"Works  and  Life  of  Benjamin  Franklin,"  in  ten  volumes,  which 
has  been  superseded  only  by  John  Bigelow's  late  work  on  the 
same  subject;  and  ending  with  "The  Correspondence  of  the 
American  Revolution."  Sparks  collected,  arranged  and  shaped 
material,  but  did  not  attempt  to  give  it  interior  philosophical 
organization.  His  books  were  and  will  be  more  useful  to  suc- 
ceeding historians  than  they  can  ever  be  to  the  general  reader. 
He  was  diligent,  accurate  and  enthusiastic,  but  not  critical.  An 
abler  and  deeper  man  was  John  Gorham  Palfrey  (i  796-1881), 
who,  in  his  "  History  of  New  England,"  gave  a  simply  worded  but 
penetrating  exposition  of  the  early  Puritan  character,  doing  justice 
both  to  their  virtues  and  their  faults.  His  work  remains  the  best 
discussion  of  the  topic  selected. 

The  wide  expanse  of  the  Western  Continent  has  been  divided 
up  among  our  historians,  until  not  much  of  great  importance 
remains.  Beginning  in  high  latitudes,  Francis  Park- 
man  describes  the  collisions  and  negotiations  between  ^^  ^j^^  ^^^^^ 
the  French  and  the  English  in  Canada  and  the 
North ;  Prescott  goes  back  to  the  days  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  and  tells  of  Spanish  conquests  in  Mexico  and  Peru  ; 
Irving  relates  the  story  of  Columbus;  Herbert  Howe  Bancroft 
treats  of  the  Pacific  States,  in  forty  volumes ;  and  George  Ban- 
croft brings  the  history  of  the  American  colonies  down  to,  and 
through,  the  War  of  the  Revolution.  The  period  between  1789 
and  the  Civil  War  is  still  unoccupied,  though  Professor  McMasters 
is  working  in  that  direction ;  and  the  Civil  War  itself,  though 
frequently  discussed,  notably  in  the  "  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln," 
recently  issued  by  John  Hay  and  John  Nicolay,  has  probably  yet 
to  receive  its  final  historical  treatment.  Motley,  in  his  "  Rise  of 
the  Dutch  RepubHc,"  is  the  only  one  of  our  historians  of  note 
who  has  gone  outside  his  native  land  for  a  subject,  —  for  Spain  is 
used  by  Prescott  only  as  one  of  the  factors  in  American  develop- 
ment,—  but  the  theme  he  develops  is  congenial  to  American 
ideas,  tracing  as  it  does  the  successful  struggle  of  man  against 
political  and  religious  oppression.  Historians  are  growing  more 
critical   and    philosophical  as   time  goes   on  —  that  is,   they  are 


82  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

getting  nearer  to  the  ultimate  meaning  of  man  and  life,  as  illus- 
trated by  the  events  and  circumstances  of  the  past ;  and  we  may 
expect  that  the  next  great  writer  in  this  vein  will  elicit  a  body 
of  permanent  truths  of  far  deeper  interest  and  significance  than 
any  mere  picture  of  people  and  things,  however  brilliant  and  just. 

A  "  History  of  the  United  States  "  was  written,  about  the  middle 
of  the  century,  by  Richard  Hildreth,  treating  of  the  period  be- 
tween Washington  and  Monroe,  or  down  to  the  year  1821.  It  is 
a  work  so  strongly  partisan  (on  the  Federahst  side)  as  to  dimin- 
ish what  value  it  possesses ;  and  though  its  statements  of  facts  are 
clear  and  trustworthy,  its  uniform  dulness,  which  is  scarcely  re- 
lieved by  its  political  vehemence,  renders  it  unreadable.  Hil- 
dreth's  work  cannot  be  considered  in  any  respect  final,  and,  from 
the  literary  point  of  view,  may  certainly  be  neglected  by  the 
student. 

But  the  writings  of  William  Hickling  Prescott  (1796-1859) 

have  a  literary  as  well  as  a  historical  value.     Indeed,  the  obvious 

brilliance  of  his  literary  method  has  in  some  measure  detracted 

from  the  confidence  reposed  in  his  accuracy  as  a  historian  :  it  was 

doubted  whether  pictures  so  glowing  and  diversified  were  entirely 

compatible  with  conscientious  adherence  to  fact.     But  Prescott 

used  his  imagination  not  to  color  or  distort  the  truth,  but  to  give 

A  historian     ^^  body  and  impressiveness ;   and  the  themes  which 

who  turns       he  selected  were  adapted  to  the  warm  conceptions 

ff°.T!o!.  ^  of  his  arenius.  His  blindness  no  doubt  strengthened 
United  States  ^  ° 

to  other  divi-   his  tendency  to  picturesque  treatment ;  he  pondered 

sions  of  the  ^ygj.  ^^  scenes  that  he  portrayed  until  they  became 
continent. 

living  realities  to  him.     In  reading  him  we  feel  that 

he  wrote  from  a  mind  already  stored  and  overflowing,  not  with 
his  note-books  and  his  authorities  by  his  side,  to  be  consulted  at 
every  dip  of  the  pen.  His  style  is  not  dissimilar  to  Macaulay's ; 
less  opulent  in  rhetoric,  but  also  less  open  to  subsequent  correc- 
tion. Though  not  strong  in  philosophic  analysis,  Prescott  keeps 
the  reader  sufficiently  awake  to  the  relative  value  of  the  events 
described ;  as  we  sweep  along  on  the  vigorous  current  of  his 
narrative,  we  are  not  made  oblivious  of  the  chart  of  our  course. 


SOME  STATESMEN  AND  HISTORIANS.  83 

nor  of  the  significance  of  the  journey.     The  time  has  not  yet 

come  for  any  one  to  supplant  Prescott  in  the  honorable  position 

he  holds  in  the  historical  realm.     He  published  his  "  History  of 

Ferdinand  and  Isabella,"  covering  the  period  from   1469  to  the 

era  of  Columbus.    At  this  point  Irving's  "  Life 

of  Columbus  "  takes  up  the  tale,  and  the  same 

writer  had  gathered  material  to  treat  of  the 

Conquest  of  Mexico  by  Cortez,  in  15 19.    But, 

as  we  have  seen,  he  resigned  this  subject  to 

Prescott,  whose  "  History  of  the  Conquest  of 

Mexico"  appeared  in  1843.     The  "History 

of  the  Conquest  of  Peru,"  published  in  1847, 

brought   the   early    Spanish-American   annals 

down  to  the  year  1530.     His  next  work,  the 

"History  of  the  Reign  of  Philip   H.,"  was     wniiamHickiing Prescott 

de'signed  to  include  the  period  between  1555  and  1598,  but  it  was 

never  completed ;  and  to  Motley  was  left  the  congenial  task  of 

describing  the  rise  of  the  Dutch  Repubhc  against  Philip  in  1572. 

Beyond  a  volume  of  miscellaneous  essays,  Prescott's  labors  were 

at  an  end. ^^j^         cU.^^^  ^crr^.       /^J 

What  PresiCpft  has  done  for  the  south  of  the  continent,  Francis 
Parkman  (b.  1823)  achieved  for  its  northern  regions.  Parkman 
was  a  Bostonian  by  birth,  a  graduate  of  Harvard,  and  began  his 
career  with  a  futile  attempt  at  novel-writing.  But,  while  still  early 
in  his  twenties,  he  made  a  journey  to  the  Pacific  coast,  and  the 
narrative  of  what  he  saw  on  this  trip,  published  in  the  "  Knicker- 
bocker Magazine,"  and  afterwards  collected  in  a  volume  called 
"  The  Oregon  Trail,"  gave  the  cue  to  his  future  work.  He  would 
write  about  Indians  and  the  wilderness ;  only,  instead  of  attempt- 
ing the  featureless  and  barren  task  of  a  history  of  aborigines  pure 
and  simple,  with  ethnological  researches  or  speculations  thrown  in, 
he  would  select  that  part  of  Indian  annals  that  was  associated 
with  the  invasions,  settlements  and  rivalries  of  the  white  races 
north  of  latitude  40°.  Of  course  the  Indian  became  a  mere  appen- 
dage in  this  struggle  ;  but  the  scenery,  the  adventures  and  the 
conflicts  all  belonged  to  the  wilder  aspects  of  life. 


84  AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 

The  French,  at  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century,  owned, 
or  claimed,  the  whole  of  what  is  now  the  territory  of  the  United 
States,  with  the  exception  of  a  strip  of  coast  country  a  few  hun- 
dred miles  wide  on  the  Atlantic,  occupied  by  the  Enghsh  colonies, 
and  a  similar  but  wider  strip  on  the  Pacific,  belonging  to  Spain. 
The  Great  Lakes,  and  the  Mississippi  from  its  source  to  its  mouth 
were  included  in  this  tract,  not  to  speak  of  the  vast  spaces  towards 
the  north.  After  the  Peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  in  1748,  France 
ordered  all  Enghsh  settlers  out  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  val- 
leys. The  order  was  disregarded.  Fort  Duquesne  (now  Pittsburg) 
was  captured  by  Washing! on ;  and,  in  1759,  the  French  posses- 
sions, attacked  at  these  points  simultaneously,  succumbed  to  the 
English.  Wolfe  took  Quebec,  Amherst  captured  Montreal ;  and 
France,  by  the  Peace  of  1763,  finally  surrendered  all  its  vast 
wedge-shaped  territory,  from  Hudson's  Bay  to  the  Gulf.  So  far, 
all  was  well  j  but  when  the  English  began  to  occupy  their  newly 
acquired  posts,  an  Ottawa  chief,  Pontiac,  united  together  several 
Indian  tribes,  surprised  the  British  garrisons,  drove  twenty  thou- 
sand people  from  their  homes,  and  for  a  year  carried  all  before 
him.  But  in  1764,  weakened  by  internal  dissensions,  the  Indians 
made  peace  with  General  Bradstreet ;  and  Pontiac  himself  was 
soon  after  assassinated  by  a  Peoria  Indian. 

Such  is  the  historical  field  chosen  by  Parkman,  and  his  powers 

were  well  suited  to  its   development.      There   is   in 
A  historian      ,  .  .        ^  ,  .  , 

of  French        him  a  vem  of  poetry :    he   appreciates   the  romance 

and  Indian  gf  savage  life,  and  has  the  faculty  of  making  his 
reader  live,  as  it  were,  in  the  scenes  that  he  portrays. 
He  has  been  dihgent  in  collecting  materials,  and  careful  in 
sifting  them ;  and  the  result  which  he  offers  is  so  attractive  in 
style  and  captivating  in  interest  as  to  command  emphatic  popu- 
larity. In  taking  up  the  various  parts  of  his  subject,  he  did  not 
follow  the  chronological  order,  his  "The  Conspiracy  of  Pontiac" 
having  appeared  in  its  first  form  in  185 1.  Under  the  comprehen- 
sive heading  of  "  France  and  England  in  North  America,"  he  then 
published  successively  "The  Pioneers  of  France  in  the  New 
World,"  "  The  Jesuits  in  North  America  in  the  Seventeenth  Cen- 


SOME   ST  A  TESMEN  AND  HISTORIANS.  .  85 

tury,"  "La  Salle  and  the  Discovery  of  the  Great  West,"  "The 
Old  Regim^  in  Canada,"  "  Count  Frontinac  and  New  France 
under  Louis  XIV.,"  and  "  Montcalm  and  Wolfe."  Parkman  is 
not  weighty,  but  his  scope  is  broad ;  and  he  knows  the  value  of 
historical  perspective. 

John  Lothrop  Motley  (i8 14-18 77)  was  the  most  powerful  of 
American  historians.  It  was  a  power,  however,  not  massive  and 
ponderous,  but  alert  and  active  :  the  power  of  the  athlete,  fleet, 
certain  and  concentrated.  His  writings  show  not  merely  the  sedu- 
lous gatherer  and  skilful  organizer  of  facts ;  they  reveal  a  man 
who  was  more  than  a  writer  —  a  man  deeply  versed  in  poHtical 
science,  in  knowledge  of  human  nature,  in  ethical  and  religious 
philosophy.  In  Motley,  the  scholar  did  not  shut  out  the  man  of 
action  and  the  man  of  the  world ;  his  character  and  talents  were 
symmetrical ;  he  shone  in  society :  he  absorbed,  but  was  not 
suffocated  by  the  best  culture  of  America  and  Europe.  His  mind 
was  flexible,  hospitable  and  of  vigorous  grasp ;  he  was  poised,  at 
all  times  master  of  his  faculties,  and  measured  instinctively  events 
and  men.  His  remarkable  personal  beauty,  graceful  yet  sincerely 
cordial  manners  and  the  rich  texture  of  his  con- 
versation made  him  a  figure  of  distinction,  apart  ^^i*"^^<^ 
from  his  intellectual  eminence.  He  was,  at  different 
times,  minister  at  the  courts  of  Madrid  and  of  St.  James,  as 
was  Lowell  afterwards ;  but  unlike  Lowell,  he  was  made  the 
victim  of  political  manoeuvring,  and  did  not  complete  his  diplo- 
matic career.  Motley  was  a  man  of  high  and  ardent  ambition  : 
his  life  had  always  been  brilliant,  conspicuous  and  successful; 
and  this  unexpected  and  unmerited  slight  near  its  close  in- 
flicted a  wound  upon  his  self-esteem  that  pained  him  more  than 
it  should  have  done.  No  one  knew  better  than  Modey  that  a 
man  can  be  disgraced  only  by  his  own  act ;  and  compared  with 
the  renown  conferred  upon  him  by  his  writings,  the  credit  of  a 
diplomatic  appointment  was  hardly  a  worthy  cause  of  pride ;  or 
to  lose  it,  of  mortification. 

Like  the  majority  of  the  more  famous  historians.  Motley  had  a 
moderate  fortune,  which  served  the  purpose  of  enabling  him  to 


86  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

travel  and  to  make  such  researches  as  were  needed  for  his  pur- 
pose. The  cultivation  of  imaginative  literature  can  be  carried  on 
with  little  or  no  capital,  and  is  certainly  not  apt  to  accumulate 
any ;  but  the  apostle  of  history  must  have  an  income.  The  mate- 
rials and  the  preparations  are  so  costly,  and  the  time  which  must 
elapse  before  the  work  can  be  put  forth  is  so  long,  that  the  writer 
would  otherwise  starve  to  death  long  before  his  first  pages  could 
see  the  light.  Motley,  like  Parkman,  first  tried  his  pen  on  a  novel, 
laying  his  scene  among  the  pioneer  pilgrims  of  New  England ;  but 
he  soon  began  to  see  defined  before  him  the  enterprise  which  was 
to  engage  the  energies  of  his  life.     The  idea  of  writing  a  history 

of   the    Netherlands    so    fascinated    his    imagination 
^vS"^^^  that   he    could   turn   to   nothing   else;    he    felt   that 

this  and  this  only  was  his  appointed  work.  He 
did  not  seek  the  subject :  it  sought  him.  He  began  to  prose- 
cute studies  with  this  end  in  view,  but  soon  realized  that  he 
must  seek  his  materials  in  the  Netherlands  themselves.  Thither, 
accordingly,  he  betook  himself,  and  so  interested  the  sovereign 
of  Holland  in  his  project  that  all  the  archives  of  the  state  were 
placed  at  his  disposal.  For  years  he  lived  and  labored  among 
these  ancient  documents  until  he  became  so  imbued  with  the 
spirit  of  sixteenth-century  life,  and  so  familiar  with  the  great 
figures  that  acted,  triumphed,  suffered  and  struggled  in  it,  that 
his  own  age  seemed  almost  strange  to  him.  His  investigations 
were  not  confined  to  the  Netherlands ;  he  followed  his  quest  all 
over  Europe,  until,  at  length,  he  was  ready  to  sit  down  and  write. 
The  story  he  had  to  tell,  beginning  with  the  revolt  of  the  Dutch 
against  Philip  H.,  continues  with  the  portrayal  of  the  fortunes  of 
the  successful  revolutionists,  and  concludes  with  the  Hfe  and  death 
of  John  of  Barnieveld.  A  great  and  superb  historical  canvas  is 
A  great  pic-     displayed  before  the  student,  with  figures  vividly  and 

ture  of  a  powerfully  but  impartially  painted  ;  and  the  succes- 
magfnificent       .  .,.,,.,.  , 

struggle  for     sive   episodes,  with  their  bearing  upon   one  another 

liberty.  and  their  meaning  in  the  evolution  of  humanity,  are 

depicted  and  elucidated  in  a  manner  notliing  less  than  mas- 
terly.     To   read   these    pages    is   to    learn    a    deep   lesson   in 


SOME  STATESMEN-  AND  HtSTORIANS.  87 

human  nature,  as  well  as  to  become  indelibly  impressed  with  the 
specific  occurrences  themselves.  The  darkest  and  the  noblest 
passions  of  mankind  are  revealed ;  the  marvellous  cruelty  of  man 
to  man ;  and  emerging  from  this  sombre  and  bloody  background, 
the  fire  of  dauntless  courage,  the  heroism  of  self-sacrifice,  the 
indomitable  resolve  for  liberty.  Beside  these  books,  the  most  of 
our  literature  looks  pale  and  ineffective.  The  work  is  divided  into 
three  parts,  —  "  The  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic,"  "  The  History 
of  the  United  Netherlands,"  and  "  The  Life  and  Death  of  John 
of  Barneveld."  Tt^/K 

Solidity  and  enduring  strength  are  characteristics  of  the  work 
of  George  Bancroft  (^1800-1891),  the  historian  of  our  colonial 
and  Revolutionary  periods.  He  began  life  as  a  politician  and  a 
Democrat,  and  gained  an  insight  into  the  practical  workings  of 
the  government.  In  his  youth,  he  visited  Europe,  and  wrote 
moral  and  religious  verses  under  the  inspiration  of  what  he  saw, 
evincing,  at  least,  a  serious  basis  of  character.  But  at  the  age  of 
thirty-five  he  was  already  in  the  field  with  the 
first  volume  of  his  history,  and  the  remain- 
ing five  appeared  at  average  intervals  of  ten 
years  each.  This  statement  sufficiently  indi- 
cates the  exhaustive  and  deliberate  thorough- 
ness of  Bancroft's  work.  It  took  him  nearly 
a  third  as  long  to  write  his  book  as  it  did 
the  colonists  to  provide  the  material  for  its 
writing.  Nor  was  any  of  this  time  wasted. 
Unusual  facilities  of  access  to  archives  were 
allowed  him,  and  he  improved  them  to  the  ^^^^^^  ^^"'^^°^'- 

utmost.     Innumerable  were  the  documents  —  the  forgotten  files 
of  newspapers,  the  mouldy  chronicles,  the  dry  and  dusty  tomes  — 
through   which    he   pursued   his   patient  way ;    missing   nothing, 
weighing  everything,  grouping  all  in  order,  and  digesting  the  whole 
huge  mass  slowly  and  completely  in  the  alembic  of  his 
memory,  until  it  became  fluid  and  tractable,  and  from  pyj-^^J,  ^ 
it  was  distilled,  drop  by  drop,  the  concise,  clear  and 
precious  essence  wherewith  his  phials  were  filled.     Or,  we  may 


88  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

compare  his  achievement  to  the  building  of  the  Great  Pyramid, 
the  whole  elaborate  and  vast  design  of  which  was  conceived  and 
settled  upon  before  the  foundation  lines  were  chiselled  out  in  the 
everlasting  rock.  And  then  stone  after  stone  was  hewn  out  of 
the  quarry,  and  shaped  with  mathematical  accuracy  to  its  indi- 
vidual dimensions,  and  borne  to  its  destination,  and  slowly  and 
heedfully  deposited  in  its  appointed  place.  Course  after  course 
arose,  with  inner  chambers  and  passage-ways,  and  a  vital  meaning 
and  purpose  inherent  in  every  part,  until  the  stupendous  organism 
stood  imposing  and  flawless,  a  monument  and  a  symbol.  It  is 
difficult  to  avoid  strong  terms  in  speaking  of  Bancroft's  book. 
His  method  is  essentially  modern  and  philosophic ;  he  discerns 

in  a  given   existing   condition  the   germ   of  coming 
His  method.  1,1  r     1 1      1         , 

events,  and  shows  the  reasons  of  all   that   happens, 

both  innate  and  circumstantial ;  as  the  plant  develops  partly  from 
the  substance  of  the  seed,  and  partly  from  the  cooperation  of  the 
chemic  forces  of  the  soil,  and  of  the  atmosphere.  He  demonstrates 
how  1789  was  the  logical  outcome  of  1620,  and  leaves  us  with  a 
clue  that  may  guide  us  from  1 789  to  the  passing  hour.  The  sen- 
tences in  which  he  embodies  his  narrative  are  quiet,  serious  and 
simple  :  the  unornamented  but  austerely  refined  vehicle  of  facts 
and  thoughts.  It  sometimes  recalls  the  compact  and  pregnant 
texture  of  Bacon's  workmanship  :  but  it  never  glows  with  the  inner 
fire  of  Bacon's  matchless  wit.  Bancroft  keeps  both  feet  on  the 
soHd  earth  ;  but  he  recognizes  the  Divine  force  working  within,  and 
moulding  the  ignorant  complex  of  mortal  events,  and  his  coldness 
is  the  coldness  of  resolute  self-repression,  not  of  bloodlessness. 

Hubert  Howe  Bancroft  (b.  1823)  is  personally  interesting  as 
a  self-educated  man  who,  in  the  face  of  many  obstacles,  has 
accomplished  a  work  of  unexampled  magnitude.  In  proportion 
to  its  newness,  its  population,  its  social,  commercial  and  historical 
importance,  no  part  of  this  planet  has  been  so  exhaustively  treated 
The  historian  ^^  ^^  Pacific  States  have  been  by  Mr.  H.  H.  Ban- 
of  the  Pacific  croft.  If  this  region  is  destined  to  become  the 
States.  gg^^  q|-  ^^  empire  and  the  civihzation  of  the  future, 

generations  to  come  will  have  cause  to  be  grateful  to  Mr.  Bancroft 


SOME   STATESMEN  AND  HISTORIANS.  89 

for  his  forty  ponderous  volumes.  And  in  any  case  his  labors 
will  have  been  of  great  usefulness  :  for  no  coming  writer  on  the 
Pacific  settlements  need  go  further  than  to  his  books  for  material. 
It  is  all  there,  the  chaff  sifted  from  the  wheat,  ready  to  be  made 
up  in  forms  and  qualities  to  suit  purchasers.  It  is  encyclopaedic 
in  scope  and  detail,  a  marvel  of  human  energy  and  intelligence. 
Much  of  it  has  been  written  out  by  Mr.  Bancroft's  own  hand ; 
the  rest  has  received  his  intimate  supervision.  It  can  scarcely 
be  included  in  any  course  of  reading,  but  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
profitable  reading  in  it. 

"  The  History  of  Spanish  Literature,"  by  George  Ticknor 
(i  791-18  71),  may  be  mentioned  here,  as  a  careful  and  creditable 
performance.     It  is  impartial,  judicious  and  appreciative. 

Although  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  (b.  181 2)  does  not 
technically  belong  to  either  of  the  categories  discussed  in  this 
chapter,  she  is  so  identified  with  the  cause  of  Abolitionism  in 
Uterature,  and  is  of  such  comparatively  small  importance  outside 
of  that,  that  she  cannot  be  better  placed  than  here.  In  her  youth 
she  lived  near  the  borders  of  a  slave-holding  state,  and  her  girlish 
imagination,  already  attuned  to  a  key  of  transcendental  morality, 
was  inflamed  by  the  cruelties  and  injustice  of  which  she  heard 
many  sensational  reports,  and  some  of  which,  perhaps,  she  saw. 
As  these  early  impressions  were  never  modified  or  corrected  by 
an  actual  residence  among  the  great,  patriarchal  slave-holders, 
they  rankled  in  her  memory,  and  became  blacker  and  more  por- 
tentous the  longer  she  mused  over  them.  Natural  taste  and  a  lit- 
erary environment  had  led  her  to  try  her  hand  at  sentimental  and 
descriptive  sketch-writing ;  and  finally,  when  nearly  forty  years 
of  age,  and  at  a  time  when  public  feeling  was  excited  by  the 
Missouri  Compromise,  she  bethought  herself  to  «4Tjncle 
preach  a  sermon  against  slavery,  as  she  understood  Tom's 
it,  in  the  guise  of  a  work  of  fiction.  "Uncle  ^^^^•" 
Tom's  Cabin "  was  the  well-known  result.  Taking  as  a  text 
the  axiom  that  no  man  has  a  right  to  "  own "  another,  she 
proceeded  on  the  theory  that  the  actual  facts  of  slavery  in  the 
United    States  were    in  all  respects   and   everywhere   as  sinister, 


90  AMERICAN  LITER  A  TURE. 

soulless  and  bloodthirsty  as  the  worst  hypothetical  conditions 
would  allow.  A  more  emotional,  impassioned,  one-sided  book 
was  never  written.  But  the  almost  fanatic  earnestness  of  the 
writer  was  contagious ;  and  the  plot  of  her  tale,  overflowing  with 
sensational  and  sentimental  interest,  and  harrowing  in  its  pictures 
of  human  depravity  and  innocent  suffering,  arrested  public  atten- 
tion. There  was  enough  truth  in  the  details  and  accessories  of 
the  story  to  render  it  plausible ;  it  appealed  to  the  natural  human 
instinct  against  injustice,  and  it  seemed  a  confirmation,  in  telling 
and  readable  form,  of  the  most  reckless  charges  of  the  Aboli- 
tionists. The  book  did  harm  in  some  ways,  and  good  in  others. 
It  did  harm  by  prompting  the  people  of  the  North  to  believe  in 
the  total  depravity  of  all  the  millions  of  their  fellow-citizens  of  the 
South  :  it  did  good  by  showing  the  evils  in  which,  by  abstract 
possibility,  the  adoption  of  slavery  might  land  us.  The  book  was 
read  by  myriads  of  persons,  and  its  publishers  still  claim  to  sell 
many  thousands  yearly :  it  is  said  to  have  been  translated  into 
forty  languages,  and  it  was  undoubtedly  a  factor  in  the  quarrel 
which  resulted  in  the  Civil  War.  From  the  literary  point  of  view, 
its  merit  is  small,  both  as  to  style  and  characterization.  Mrs. 
Stowe  has,  since  then,  written  many  novels  far  superior  in  these 
respects  to  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin "  ;  but  the  best  of  them  can 
hardly  be  regarded  as  good  literature.  They  are  amusing,  gos- 
sipy and  humorous,  and  have  a  conspicuous  moral  motive,  but 
contain  nothing  to  preserve  them  from  oblivion. 


POETS   OF  THE  FIRST  HALF-CENTURY.  91 


VI. 
POETS   OF  THE   FIRST   HALF-CENTURY. 

The  birth,  in  America,  of  true  poetry  was  long  delayed.     No 
theory  satisfactorily  accounts  for  this.     Poetry  has  appeared  in- 
differently in  almost  every  environment  conceivable.     The  victims 
of  oppression  have  brought  it  forth,  and  so  have  the   _..    . 
oppressors.     It  has  flourished  amidst  country  poverty,   birth  of 
and  it  has  illuminated  the  opulence  of  cities.     Times   i**®*^- 
of  action,  danger  and  excitement  have  been  fruitful  of  it ;  and  it 
has  blossomed  luxuriantly  in   depths  of  peace  and  tranquillity. 
Philosophy  has  found    in    it    its    purest    expression,   and   it    has 
moulded  into  forms  of  grace   and   beauty  the   evanescent   froth 
of  society.     Deniers  of  God  have  turned  to  it  for  solace,  and  it 
has  even  burst  through   the    rigid   crust  of   dogmatic   theology. 
Like  God  himself,   poetry  may  say,  "Though  thou  flee   to  the 
uttermost  ends  of  the  earth,  lo  !  I  am  there  ! " 

Why,  then,  during  nearly  two  centuries  following  the  landing  of 
the  Pilgrims  did  we  have  no  poetry  in  America?  Verses,  as  we 
have  seen,  were  occasionally  written ;  didactic  homilies  in  rhyme  ', 
political  jingles,  sentimental  clap-trap,  and  the  like.  Even  Hop- 
kinson's  "  Hail  Columbia  "  and  Francis  Scott  Key's  "  Star-Spangled 
Banner"  are  nothing  apart  from  their  musical  setting.  The  first 
poem,  rightly  so  called,  to  appear  on  these  shores  was  written  by 
a  lad  of  eighteen,  was  known  by  the  somewhat  repellent  title  of 
"  Thanatopsis  "  and  was  published  in  1817.  Something  of  this 
dearth  may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the  Americans  were  an  English- 
speaking  people,  and  that  the  mother  country  supplied 

,     -  -r.    ,  ,         ,  1         r  The  reasons 

poets  enough  for  two.      Perhaps,  also,  the  novelty  ot   ^^^  delay. 

their  adopted  country,  its  unsettled  state,  the  lack  of 

mutual  harmony  and  understanding   between  it  and  its  foster- 


92        •  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

children,  may  have  contributed  to  their  silence.  It  is  likewise  to 
be  said  that  nearly  every  one  who  was  qualified  to  busy  himself 
with  literature  was  either  a  clergyman  or  the  son  of  one ;  for  the 
clergymen  of  New  England,  like  the  priests  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
were  the  chief  depositaries  of  learning  :  and  since  the  clergy  were 
opposed  on  principle  to  any  other  poetry  than  might  be  found 
in  a  psalm-book,  there  was  little  chance  for  the  muse  in  that 
direction.  But  be  the  explanation  what  it  may,  poetry  there  was 
none. 

Nor  have  we,  even  up  to  the  present  day,  produced  any  consider- 
No  ereat  ^^^  body  of  poetry  of  the  highest  class.  We  have  had 
volume  of        two  or  three  popular  poets,  and  a  good  many  popular 

^°^*  poems.     A  lyric  or  two  of  Poe's  touch  the  high  levels. 

Emerson  was  always  original,  and  occasionally  sublime  and  ex- 
quisite at  once.  Bryant,  Longfellow  and  a  score  of  others  have 
now  and  again  written  something  truly  beautiful  or  great.  But 
when  we  think  of  the  great  English  poets,  even  those  of  the  last 
hundred  years  only,  our  self-esteem  diminishes.  And  yet  we  feel 
that  in  this  land,  if  anywhere,  great  poetry,  and  plenty  of  it,  ought 
to  be  produced.  Possibly  the  very  grandeur  and  magnitude  of 
the  obvious  themes  discourage  the  candidate's  imagination,  and 
will  continue  to  do  so  until  some  Daniel  Webster  of  poetry  con- 
secrates himself  to  the  enterprise. 

Whatever  else  true  poetry  shows,  it  must  always  show  imagina- 
tion. Its  presence  is  accompanied  by  a  magical  lift  of  the  soul, 
dissolving  material  conditions,  and  reaching  the  truth 
ofpoetiT^  behind  the  fact.  From  it  emanates  "the  light  that 
never  was,  on  sea  or  land."  It  transmutes  into  pure 
gold  the  base  metal  of  life  :  it  redeems  the  universe  out  of  the 
"  poHverse  "  of  heterogeneous  phenomena.  At  the  touch  of  its 
fairy  wand,  things  assume  their  proper  shapes,  as  we  read  in  the 
children's  story-books  —  or  did  read  until  the  present  fashion  in 
children's  story-books  set  in  :  it  reveals  the  immortal  reality  within 
the  transient  husk.  It  delights  the  mind  with  spiritual  grace,  the 
heart  with  transcendent  beauty  and  melody.  It  gives,  as  Coventry 
Patmore  puts  it,  in  a  lovely  paradox,  "  the  power  of  saying  things 


POETS   OF   THE  FIRST  HALF-CENTURY.  93 

too  simple  and  too  sweet  for  words."     Poetry,  in  short,  is  the 
language  of  Revelation ;  and  true  poets  are  seers  and  prophets. 

Manifestly,  then,  poetry  cannot  be  taught,  or  learned,  or  imi- 
tated :  it  is  a  Divine  gift,  if  ever  there  was  one,  and  the  endow- 
ment is  always  a  mystery.  The  celestial  seed  falls  and  flourishes 
sometimes  in  most  unlikely  soils ;  and  again,  men  who  to  our 
halting  perception  seem  to  possess  all  the  organization  and  quali- 
fications of  poets  can  never  catch  a  note  of  the  mighty  music. 
We  cannot  know  what  "  makes  "  a  poet ;  least  of  all 
can  he  himself  know  it.  Perhaps  it  is  largely  a  faculty  thepoeT?  ^^ 
of  self-extinction ;  of  putting  out  of  sight  the  personal, 
individual  or  egoistic  element,  and  thus  removing  the  barriers 
which  obstruct  the  inflow  of  the  grand,  impersonal  human  nature, 
wherein  dwells  Deity  itself;  and  as  the  notes  of  the  organ-pipes 
vary  with  their  proportions,  so  the  poet's  song  is  modified  by  his 
temperament,  education  and  surroundings.  But  these  speculations 
take  us  beyond  our  depth.  We  have  to  do  here  with  the  American 
poetry  of  the  first  half  of  this  century. 

William  Cullen  Bryant  (1794-18  78).  The  ancestors  of 
Bryant,  on  both  sides,  were  among  the  first  of  the  Plymouth  Rock 
Pilgrims.  The  moral  and  religious  training  they  underwent,  the 
narrow,  ascetic  and  arduous  circumstances  of  their  lives,  should 
be  borne  in  mind  in  contemplating  this  inheritor  of  their  traits 
and  traditions.  The  consequences  of  such  an  inheritance  would 
naturally  be  to  dispose  their  subject  to  reticence,  self- repression, 
stoicism,  reverence  for  just  authority,  and  the  fear  of  God,  in  the 
full  old  Calvinistic  sense. 

Bryant's  mother  was  an  indefatigable  and  able  housewife,  with 
seven  children,  and  everything  to  do.     "  Made  Cullen   ^^^  condl- 
a  coat";  "Wove  and  spun";  "Sewed  on  a  shirt";   tionsofhis 
"Washed  and  ironed,"   run  the  items  of  her  diary.   ^^^^ 
His  father  was  a  country  doctor,  and  seems,  either  owing  to  the 
nature  of  his  profession,  or  spontaneously,  to  have  been  able  to 
talk  and  think  about  other  thinsis  beside  theology  and  doctrine. 
At  all  events,  he  had  some  classical  education,  and  in  his  library 


94  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

were  specimens  of  the  British  historians,  essayists  and  poets.  He 
was  something  more  than  an  iron-hearted,  wooden-faced  text- 
quoting  machine  j  he  had  sensibihties  and  occasionally  betrayed 
them. 

He  was  poor  and  not  miserly.  He  did  the  best  he  could  for 
his  son.  When  he  christened  him,  he  probably  expected  him  to 
become  a  doctor  hke  himself,  WiUiam  Cullen  being  the  name  of 
a  physician  of  a  previous  generation.  William  himself  afterwards 
thought  he  would  be  a  lawyer,  but,  having  tried  it  for  nine  years, 
decided  to  be  editor  of  a  newspaper.  But  this  was  later.  The 
Bryants  lived  in  the  western  part  of  Massachusetts,  nearly  a  mile 
above  sea-level,  in  a  place  called  Cummington.  There  were 
forests  all  about,  and  characteristic  New  England  scenery,  perhaps 
more  picturesque  than  the  average.  Doubtless,  at  any  rate,  such 
beauty  as  there  was  must  have  been  out  of  doors,  and  not  within. 
The  home  was  the  dwelling-place  of  vigorous  and  self-respecting 
poverty,  and  admitted  no  charms  of  form  or  color.  The  family 
customs  and  demeanor  were  substantially  those  of  their  ancestry. 
There  was  no  demonstrativeness,  —  rather  a  kindly,  serious,  taci- 
turn, mutual  toleration.  The  social  atmosphere  resembled  that  of 
the  geographical  region :  it  was  somewhat  cool  and  attenuated. 
There  were  hearts  around  the  hearthstone,  but  they  were  not 
encouraged  to  beat  audibly.  It  was  the  home  of  virtue,  not  of 
emotion ;  it  fostered  quiet  strength  and  self-reliance,  not  tender, 
sympathetic  dependence.  The  father  and  mother  were  good 
friends  ;  one  doubts  whether  they  could  ever  have  been  passionate 
lovers. 

If  William  ever  had  a  childhood,  he  kept  the  fact  to  himself. 

At  eighteen  months,  he  knew  his  letters.     At  four,  he 

ms  preco-  attended  the  district  school,  and  became  a  good  reader 
city.  '  ° 

and  speller.     At  five,  he  could  repeat  Watts's  Hymns. 

At  eight,  he  made  verses ;  at  ten,  he  delivered  a  rhymed  address. 

At  fourteen,  he  wrote  a  political  satire  in  verse,  in  the  style  of 

Pope  ;  and  about  the  same  period,  he  composed,  in  poetical  form, 

an  "  Ode  to  Connecticut  River,"  and  some  hues  on  "Drought." 

Apart  from  these  performances,  which  are  of  no  intrinsic  impor- 


r 


POETS   OF   THE  FIJkST  HALF-CENTURY.  95 


tance,  except  to  indicate  that  his  heart  was  not  bound  up  in 
childish  things  —  apart  from  these  precocious  and  empty  echoes, 
and  the  household  chores  that  fell  to  his  share,  he  had  nothing  to 
do,  out  of  school  hours,  but  to  wander  about  in  the  woods.  No 
fervent  boyish  friendships  came  to  him,  and  since  he  was  the 
eldest  but  one  of  the  children,  he  could  find  little  companionship 
at  home.  He  had  no  ineffable  boyish  love-affair.  His  only  asso- 
ciate, in  whose  society  he  could  relax  his  reserve,  was  the  wild 
and  beautiful  nature  that  met  him  whenever  he  turned  from  the 
threshold  of  his  father's  house.  A  feeling  for  the  beauty  of  nature 
—  a  beauty  the  more  impressive  because  it  discloses  itself  only  to 
the  seeing  and  loving  eye  —  a  beauty  voiceless  to  the  ear,  but 
eloquent  to  the  soul  —  a  beauty  impersonal,  and  yet  mystically 
allied  to  humanity  —  a  recognition  of  this  beauty  grew  up  in  the 
lonely  mind  of  the  boy,  fostered,  no  doubt,  by  a  faculty  of  appre- 
ciation innate  in  his  organization.  He  saw  it,  and  rejoiced  in  it 
with  a  quiet  and  secret  joy,  but,  as  yet,  it  did  not  set  in  vibration 
in  him  any  chord  of  responsive  expression.  He  could  feel,  but 
he  could  not  comprehend,  and  therefore  he  still  was  dumb. 

Thus  he  saw  that  nature,  however  wordless,  was  always  in  move- 
ment ;  each  day,  each  moment,  there  was  a  change.     The  brooks 
rushed  to  the  river,  the  river  flowed  to  the  sea,  the  sea  ebbed  and 
flooded.     The  bare  trees  of  winter  put  forth  buds  in  the  spring, 
and  became  verdurous  in  summer,  and  in  autumn  robed  them- 
selves in  gold  and  crimson ;  but  with  winter  again  the  splendor 
was  blighted,  the  leaves  fell,  and  snow  and  rain  slowly 
incorporated  them  with  the  soil.     He  saw  the  dews   tractedby 
of  night  evaporated  by  the  sun,  and  drawn  to  upper   t^^  beauties 
regions   where    they   were    transfigured    into    clouds, 
whence  they  descended  once  more  in  showers,  and  so  maintained 
the    endless   circle.      The   flowers    bloomed,   and  withered,   and 
bloomed  again.      The  wind   blew  where    it   listed,   bearing   fra- 
grance, bearing  plague,  journeying  everywhere,  resting  nowhere.. 
The  stems  of  the  trees  were  like  the  pillars  of  a  living  temple. 
The  sunshine  flooding  the  landscape  was  as  a  smile  of  peace  and 
joy ;  the  icy  bitterness  of  December  storms,  beating  down  from 


96  AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 

low  and  leaden  skies,  was  like  the  blight  of  a  loveless  and  unbe- 
lieving heart,  bringing  the  death  that  was  in  itself  to  the  innocent 
beauty  of  living  things ;  but  a  death  that  was  not  eternal.  Were 
all  these  things  a  symbol  ?     Could  they  be  bUnd  and  meaningless  ? 

He  thought  of  the  race  of  men,  their  birth,  their  vicissitudes, 
their  death.  Beginning  far  backward  in  the  immensity  of  time, 
each  successive  generation  rejoiced  and  suffered,  loved  and  hated, 
aspired  and  despaired,  triumphed  and  failed ;  for  a  moment  they 
flashed,  a  ghttering  turmoil,  on  the  brink  of  the 
man  abyss,  and   then   were    swallowed   up   forever.      But 

though  the  individual  perished,  the  endless  stream 
of  the  race  kept  on,  and  to  each  age  its  experiences  came  as 
fresh  as  to  that  first  created.  So  it  had  been  in  the  past,  and 
so  it  would  be  forever.  Was  this  the  vanity  of  vanities,  or  did 
the  ceaseless  round  of  unavoidable  life,  of  inevitable  death,  have 
a  deeper  meaning?  Was  it  mere  sound  and  fury,  signifying 
nothing?  or  did  the  God  through  whom  man  had  being  speak 
to  man  through  the  images  of  the  material  world,  and  the  pro- 
cession of  human  history,  revealing  to  him  who  had  ears  to  hear 
the  vital  secrets  of  his  private  nature  and  destiny  ? 

The  religious  faith  in  which  the  boy  had  been  brought  up  gave 
no  sympathetic  or  tender  aspect  to  the  Deity.  He  had  the  stern- 
ness and  remoteness  of  a  judge  who  sits  apart,  who  consigns  to 
eternal  punishment  those  whom  His  Son  has  not  redeemed,  and 
relents  only  to  those  whom  Christ's  blood  has  ransomed.  But  if 
this  were  all,  to  what  purpose  was  this  wondrous  phantasmagory 
of  the  universe  ?  Why  did  it  seem  to  foretoken  a  hope,  a  truth, 
a  good,  a  mercy  beyond  the  dogmas  of  the  creed,  if  it  really 
meant  no  such  matter?  Was  not  the  universe  the  work  of  God's 
hand,  and  would  He  create  an  empty  mockery?  Might  not  man 
learn  to  look  through  nature  up  to  nature's  God,  and  behold  a 
vision  of  hitherto  unsuspected  love  and  grace? 

Read  in  the  light  of  to-day,  after  Wordsworth,  Shelley,  Keats 
A  prophet  ^^^  Tennyson  have  spoken,  these  reflections  seem 
inthewU-  obvious  and  commonplace  enough.  But  in  1812, 
derness.  none  of  those  voices  had  been  heard  in  New  Eng- 


POETS   OF  THE  FIRST  HALF-CENTURY.  97 

land  :  the  young  Bryant  must  needs  reason  the  problem  out  for 
himself.  To  have  done  so  is  evidence  of  a  courageous  and 
independent,  but  deeply  reverential  mind.  We  may  conceive 
his  meditations  to  have  arrived  at  this  stage,  and  there  to  have 
paused.  Had  he  not  possessed  the  genius  of  a  poet,  the  pause 
would  have  been  final.  It  might  have  been  so  even  as  it  was,  - 
had  no  influence  from  without  come  to  send  the  quickening 
thrill  through  the  solution  of  his  thoughts,  and  make  them  spring 
into  creative  form.     But  this  influence  was  not  wanting. 

Wordsworth's  lyrical  ballads  had  been  written,  and  a  copy  of 
the  volume  fell  into  the  boy's  hands.     It  came  like  a  veritable 
messenger  from  heaven.     Here  was  a  man  who  had  seen  as  the 
boy  had  seen,  felt  as  he  had  felt,  who  had  grappled 
like  him  with  the  riddle  of  the  world,  and  had  loftily  tion  from 
and  serenely  solved  it.      This  was  far  more  to  the  across  the 
lonely  New  England  youth  than  the   mere  aesthetic 
pleasure  of  reading  good  poetry.    It  was  the  assurance  to  him  that 
his  musings  had  not  been  in  vain ;  that  the  truth  he  had  dimly 
guessed  at  was  a  truth  indeed ;  that  all,  and  more  than  all  that 
he  had  dreamed  in  Massachusetts  forests,  had  been  apprehended 
and  interpreted  by  the  shores  of  the  English  lakes.     Long  after- 
wards Bryant  confessed  to  his  friend  Dana  that  on  reading  this 
volume  "  a  thousand  springs  seemed  to  gush  up  at  once  into  my 
heart,  and  the  face  of  nature  of  a  sudden  changed  into  a  strange 
freshness  and  hfe." 

But,  as  the  productions  of  the  English  poet  were  a  confirmation 
not  less  than  a  revelation  to  the  American  poet-that-was-to-be,  so 
the  experience  which  the  latter  had  independently  reached  saved 
him  from  becoming  the  mere  imitator  of  his  great  predecessor. 
Bryant  is  not  less  original  than  Wordsworth,  though  they  move  in 
a  similar  direction,  and  are  concerned  with  allied  themes.     The 
American  retained  his  separateness  ;  there  is  a  touch  and  a  quahty 
in  his  work  that  always  distinguishes  it  from  that  of 
the  other  poet.     In  its  spirit  it  is  abstracted  and  ele-   q^iauty. 
vated ;  but  in  its  substance  it   is  thoroughly  Ameri- 
can.   Much  of  it,  indeed,  could  hardly  have  been  written  elsewhere 


98  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

than  in  America,  or  by  any  other  than  an  American :  it  is 
animated  by  the  breath  of  the  New  World,  as  well  as  shaped  by 
its  conditions.  It  must  also  be  said  that  in  respect  of  profundity 
of  thought  and  breadth  of  view  —  in  the  latter  especially  —  Words- 
worth excels  Bryant.  In  purity,  dignity  and  austere  elevation 
Bryant  is  seldom  deficient;  but  he  is  so  uniformly  narrow  and 
monotonous  that,  by  common  consent,  his  first  poem,  "Thana- 
topsis,"  is  regarded  as  being  not  only,  in  technical  handling, 
equal  to  his  best,  but  as  supplying  the  keynote  to  everything  of 
value  that  he  wrote  afterwards.  It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that 
when  you  have  read  "  Thanatopsis,"  you  have  read  Bryant. 

Not  the  less  is  "  Thanatopsis  "  a  great  poem  :  so  great  as  to 
be  an  event  and  a  landmark  in  literature.  It  brings  man  and  his 
Creator  close  together,  after  the  long  and  dreary  interval  of  their 
Character  of  ^^^^""^^8  antagonism,  with  the  universe  of  nature  as  a 
"Thanatop-  middle  term  between  them.  It  lifts  the  individual,  in 
*^'*"  spirit,  to  the  dimensions  of  mankind,  and  shows  the 

vital  union  between  our  surroundings  and  ourselves;  Its  com- 
prehensive view  of  death  impUes  an  interpretation  of  fife  :  what 
we  had  deemed  the  chief  of  terrors  is  transformed  into  the 
majestic  and  orderly  fulfilment  of  the  purposes  of  an  infinite  and 
benign  God,  who  disposes  all  things  for  our  goad.  Grandeur  is 
of  the  essence  of  this  poetry,  and  its  grave,  direct,  elemental 
language  fitly  clothes  the  sublime  simplicity  of  the  conception. 
It  rises  high  above  the  passions,  the  anxieties,  the  petty  gratifi- 
cations of  existence.  In  contemplating  our  common  human 
destiny,  the  personal  selfhood  dwindles  into  nothingness.  The 
confused  and  warring  cries  of  our  life  —  the  sum  of  jarring 
discords  —  is  found  to  unite  in  a  mighty  diapason  of  sound  —  a 
symphony  of  joy  and  faith  in  immortality. 

But  the  whole  of  life,  and  the  whole   of  true   poetry,  is  not 

grandeur.     As  we  read  Bryant,  there  grows  on  us  a  perception  of 

something  missing  :  it  is  the  human  touch.    His  geiaius 

not  fatooUc    ^^^  ^°  flexibility ;  it  deals  with  the  immensities  and  th^ 

eternities,  but  not  with  the  limitations,  the  pathos,  the 

humor  of  mortal  creatures.     There  is  nothing  in  him  of  Shake- 


POETS   OF   THE   FIRST  HALF  CENTURY.  99 

speare's  catholicity ;  he  beholds  but  one  vision,  and  chants  but 
one  song.  His  imagination  has  dissolved  the  barriers  between 
matter  and  spirit,  but  it  cannot  perform  the  humbler  yet  not 
less  gracious  miracle  of  following  the  touching  career  of  spirit  yet 
incarnate,  and  typifying  in  homely  examples  the  comedy  and 
tragedy  of  experience.  Comedy  and  tragedy  ahke  are  beyond 
the  scope  of  Bryant's  mind.  The  text  of  his  discourse  is,  indeed, 
often  drawn  from  homely  and  simple  things ;  but  he  will  not 
delay  in  them  :  he  hastens  to  ally  them  with  final  issues,  and  to 
point  the  unfailing  moral.  He  is  as  a  man  whose  sight  has  been 
paralyzed  by  some  sudden  intolerable  blaze  of  glory,  who  thence- 
forth is  bhnd  to  all  else  than  that.  But  the  weakness  of  the  flesh 
is  as  dear  to  us,  in  its  way,  as  the  fortitude  of  the  soul,  and  is  as 
fit  a  theme  for  the  poet. 

The  narrowness  of  Bryant's  view  is  the  corollary  of  his  char- 
acter. Those  who  approached  him  became  conscious  of  a  chilli- 
ness in  his  proximity,  not  voluntary  on  his  part,  nor  by  any  means 
incompatible  with  sincere  and  kindly  good-will,  but  constant  and 
unmistakable.  In  all  the  relations  of  his  life,  from  its  beginning 
to  its  venerable  close,  Bryant  proved  himself  worthy  of  the 
respect,  esteem  and  honor  that  attended  him.  We  may  even 
say  that  he  was  loved;  but  it  was  with  the  kind  of  His  Puritan 
love  that  one  bestows  upon  a  noble  sentiment.  His  characteris- 
morality  and  integrity  were  without  blemish  ;  he  faith-  ^' 
fully  fulfilled  the  duties  incumbent  on  him  ;  he  gained  renown 
in  political  journalism ;  he  married,  and  enjoyed  a  serene  do- 
mestic happiness ;  but  there  was  ice  in  his  veins.  Only  in 
response  to  the  kindling  of  his  imagination  did  his  heart  begin 
to  throb ;  and  it  was  by  the  abstract,  not  the  concrete,  that 
his  imagination  was  kindled.  The  Puritan  strain  had  been  too 
strong  for  him;  he  could  not  shake  it  off;  nay,  he  was  prob- 
ably unaware  of  its  operation.  But  that  which,  in  his  ances- 
tors, had  been  iron  suppression  of  unruly  impulses,  was  in  him 
modified  into  calm  conformity  of  outward  demeanor  with  inward 
disposition ;  in  other  words,  the  unruly  impulses  had  been  starved 
to  death  before  he  was  born,  and  with  them  that  warm,  brotherly 


100  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

glow  of  emotion  that  stimulates  mutual  love  between    man  and 

man.     Men  were  scarcely  real  to  Bryant ;  they  were  elements  and 

illustrations  of  a  grand  scheme  or  drama,  which  it  was  his  chaste 

delight  to  portray. 

But  after  admitting  his  shortcomings,  his  merits  are  conspicuous. 

His  art  was  admirable ;  his  poems  are  symmetrical  and  complete 

in  idea  as  well  as  in  form.     The  finishing,  idealizing 
His  merits.  ° 

touches  are  given  so  lightly  and  naturally  that  there  is 

no  sense  of  effort.  His  descriptions  of  nature  are  not  often  sur- 
passed ;  he  detects  and  conveys  the  hfe  underlying  phenomena. 
So  unpretentious  is  his  language,  it  sometimes  seems  as  artless  as 
the  talk  of  children ;  yet  dignity  and  significance  are  never  absent 
from  it,  and  at  times  it  flows  in  waves  of  enchanting  melody.  His 
lines  "To  a  Waterfowl,"  "To  the  Fringed  Gentian,"  "The  Death 
of  the  Flowers,"  "An  Evening  Reverie,"  —  these  and  many  other 
poems  of  his  are  consummate  poetry.  In  "  The  Land  of  Dreams  " 
the  atmosphere  and  movement  are  exquisite,  the  conception  fault- 
less, and  the  poet's  imagination  fuses  into  beauty  all  the  elements 
of  the  composition.  Criticism  may  rest  before  such  a  production. 
Bryant's  outward  Hfe  was  not  rich  in  incident.  After  abandon- 
ing law,  and  taking  the  editorship  of  the  New  York  "  Evening 
Post,"  his  career  was  one  of  uninterrupted  prosperity.  For  fifty 
years  he  was  a  distinguished  citizen  of  New  York,  a  just  and  fear- 
less critic  of  politics,  a  leader  of  literary  society.  He 
Biograpiii-  j^ade  six  visits  to  Europe,  and  travelled  extensively 
in  America.  He  wrote  prose  descriptions  of  his  jour- 
neys, which  were  printed  in  the  "  Post  "  and  some  of  which  were 
afterwards  collected  in  volumes.  In  the  latter  years  of  his  life 
he  undertook  and  completed  a  translation  in  blank  verse  of  the 
"  Iliad  "  and  "  Odyssey,"  which  still  remains,  in  most  respects,  the 
best  in  existence.  He  was  accustomed  to  spend  the  winter  months 
in  town  ;  in  summer,  he  went  to  his  country  house  on  Long  Island ; 
in  the  autumn,  he  often  visited  his  ancestral  home  at  Cummington, 
which  he  had  bought  some  years  after  his  parents'  death.  He  was 
simple  in  his  habits,  plain  and  unassuming  in  his  address.  In  figure 
he  was  slender,  with  a-  slight  stoop.     He  early  became  bald,  and 


POETS   OF  THE   FIRST  HALF-CENTURY.  101 

ill  later  years  his  white  beard  and  hair  gave  him  a  patriarchal  look. 
His  forehead  was  high,  narrow  and  impending,  his  eyebrows  heavy, 
his  eyes  dark  and  keen,  his  nose  aquihne.  Some  traces  of  New 
England  country  brogue  remained  in  his  conversational  speech, 
but  were  not  perceptible  in  his  public  addresses,  which,  as  in  the 
case  of  the  eulogy  of  the  novelist  Cooper,  delivered  in  1852,  were 
eloquent  and  impressive. 

Bryant  was  but  eighteen  when  he  wrote  his  first  great  poem, 
which,  in  maturity  of  thought  and  style,  left  no  advance  to  be 
made.  This  has  been  held  to  be  a  remarkable  fact.  But  imagin- 
ation is  never  more  vigorous  than  in  youth,  and  poetic  intuition 
often  anticipates  the  results  of  experience.  The  young  poet's 
home-training,  as  well  as  his  inborn  taste,  gave  him  plain  and 
telling  words ;  and  the  nature  of  his  subject,  lofty  but  elemental, 
did  the  rest.  Bryant  never  became  sophisticated  :  life  taught  him 
little  :  in  all  essential  ways  he  was  as  young,  and  as  old,  when  he 
came  to  die,  as  on  that  day  when  he  scribbled  "  Thanatopsis  "  on 
a  sheet  of  paper  on  his  father's  desk,  and  put  it  in  a  pigeon-hole, 
and  never  spoke  of  it  until  it  was  found  there,  years  afterwards, 
and  brought  him  fame. 

Note.  —  Several  of  Bryant's  best  poems,  including  "Thanatopsis,"  may  be 
had  for  ten  cents  in  No.  47  of  Effingham  Maynard  &  Co.'s  "  English  Classics 
Series."  The  pamphlet  is  prepared  for  class  use :  there  is  a  good  biography  of 
the  author  and  valuable  notes  on  the  poems;  the  readings  are  from  authorized 
readings.    D.  Appleton  &  Co.  publish  a  cheap  complete  edition  of  the  poems. 

Exercise.  —  State  in  your  own  language  the  thought  and 
imagery  in  "Thanatopsis."  In  what  measure  is  it  written?  In 
what  other  poems  does  the  author  use  the  same  measure?  Do 
you  find  a  variety  of  measures  ?  What  is  the  usual  theme  of  his 
poems?  Compare  his  "June"  and  Lowell's  in  "  The  Vision  of 
Sir  Launfal."  Do  you  know  of  another  instance  of  June  being 
celebrated  as  a  good  month  to  die  in  ?  In  what  poems  do  you 
find  death  mentioned  ?  Read  the  "  Forest  Hymn "  and  the 
"  Inscription  for  the  Entrance  to  a  Wood."  Do  you  find  other 
poems  about  woods  ?  How  does  he  regard  them  ?  Do  you  find 
narrative  poems?     Lyrics  of  the  affections?     Patriotic  lyrics   or 


102  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

odes  ?     Which  do  you  consider  the  most  musical  of  his  poems  ? 
Expressive  of  the  strongest  feehng?     The  most  majestic? 

Is  his  poetry  impressive  ?  Dramatic  ?  Impassioned  ?  Highly 
colored?  Optimistic?  Sensuous?  Simple?  Serene?  Profound? 
Original  ?  Reflective  ?  Impulsive  ?  Humane  ?  Melodious  ? 
Varied?     Devotional?     Orthodox?     Joyous?     Depressing? 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  (1807-1882).  The  amiable 
and  studious  youth  who  graduated  near  the  head  of  his  class  at 
Bowdoin,  in  1825,  and  delivered  an  address  on  "American  Litera- 
ture," was  so  well  thought  of  by  his  instructors,  that  they  sent  him 
to  Europe  to  qualify  himself  for  a  professorship  in  the  college. 
He,  also,  had  a  modest  confidence  in  his  abilities  and  destiny.  He 
told  a  friend  that  he  "  would  be  eminent "  in  something.  Through 
life,  he  measured  himself  accurately ;  and  the  credit  his  writings 
brought  him  seldom  fell  below  his  forecast,  and  generally  ex- 
ceeded it. 

He  went  to  Europe  in  1826,  visited  France,  Spain,  Italy,  Ger- 
many and  England,  and  came  back  in  1829.  For  upwards  of 
five  years  he  -taught  modern  languages  in  Bowdoin.  He  had 
married  in  1831.  In  1834,  he  was  offered  a  pro- 
Biograp  -  fessorship  at  Harvard,  and  again  went  to  Europe, 
taking  his  wife  with  him,  on  an  eighteen-months  trip, 
to  be  devoted  to  studying  the  literature  of  Holland  and  the 
north  of  Europe.     Mrs.  Longfellow  died  in  Rotterdam  in  1835. 

He  returned  to  America  the  follow- 
ing year,  lived  in  the  Craigie  House 
in  Cambridge,  and  did  his  work  as 
professor  for  six  years.  A  third  time 
he  went  abroad ;  but  in  1 843  was 
in  Cambridge  again,  the  husband  of 
another  wife.  After  eleven  years 
more   of   the   professorship,    he   re- 

Longfellow's  House.  ,  o,-ii  i-  •/- 

Signed  it.  In  186 1,  he  lost  his  wife  ; 
she  was  burned  in  his  presence,  while  sitting  in  the  library.  Seven 
years  later,  with  his  three    daughters,  he   made  a  final  visit   to 


I\ 


POETS   OF   THE   FIRST  HALF-CENTURY. 

Europe.  He  died  in  his  own  home,  at  the  age  of  seventy-five, 
the  most  popular  poet  in  America,  and  one  of  the  most  popular 
in  the  world. 

Longfellow  was  a  prolific  author,  and  a  diffuse,  though  never 
a  careless  writer.  Setting  aside  some  unimportant  juvenilities, 
written  before  his  college  days,  and  some  early  essays  and  transla- 
tions, his  first  book  was  a  collection  of  sketches  written  during  his 
first  residence  abroad,  and  called  "  Outre-Mer,"  published  in 
1834.  "Hyperion,"  a  semi-autobiographic  romance,  appeared 
in  1839  j  ^^^o»  "Voices  of  the  Night,"  a  group  of  poems  written 
during  the  previous  few  years.  In  1841,  came  •'  Ballads,  and  Other 
Poems,"  and  some  poems  on  the  subject  of  slavery,  in  the  Aboli- 
tion vein ;  and  in  the  next  year,  a  play,  "  The  Spanish  Student." 
In  1843,  ^^  y^^^  o^  ^^s  second  marriage,  he  edited  an  anthology 
of  "  The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  Europe."  "  The  Belfry  of  Bruges, 
and  Other  Poems,"  came  next;  and  in  1847  was  published  his 
first  long  poem,  "  Evangeline."  A  novel,  "  Kavanagh,"  belongs 
to  1849.  "The  Seaside  and  the  Fireside"  poems  followed;  and 
"The  Golden  Legefid,"  one  of  a  trilogy  called  "The  Christus," 
came  out  in  the  winter  of  1851-52.  "Hiawatha,"  his  Indian 
epic,  bore  date  1855;  and  "The  Courtship  of  Miles  Standish  " 
was  three  years  later.  In  1863  he  wrote  "Tales  of  a  Wayside 
Inn";  in  1866,  "  Flower-de-Luce  "  ;  in  1868,  "New 
England  Tragedies"  (another  part  of  "The  Christus");  ^fg^^^rks. 
"  The  Divine  Tragedy  "  (the  third  part  of  the  trilogy), 
in  1872;  and  in  the  same  year,  "Three  Books  of  Song."  In 
1874  appeared  "Aftermath";  in  1875,  "'^he  Masque  of  Pan- 
dora"; in  1878,  "Keramos"  and  "A  Book  of  Sonnets";  in 
1880,  "Ultima  Thule."  Besides  the  above,  he  translated  Dante's 
"  Divine  Comedy  "  into  English  blank  verse,  and  pubHshed  the 
third  and  last  volume  of  it  in  1867. 

\  At  heart,  Longfellow  was  of  the  people  —  of  that  great  average 
:lass  that  constitutes,  substantially,  the  population  of  the  world. 
The  range  of  his  affections,  sympathies  and  sentiments  neither 
I'ose  above,  nor  fell  below,  this  medium  line.  This  fact  was  the 
source  of  his  wide  influence  —  this,  combined  with  the  other  fact. 


104  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


that  in  education,  culture,  taste,  gift  of  literary  expression,  and  in 
that  happy  harmony  of  elements  that  go   to   make 

the  people. 


Tnepoeto        genius,    he  was    far   above    the    average.      In    other 


words,  he  had  the  power  of  saying,  in  lucid,  pure  and 
melodious  phrase,  what  everybody  felt,  but  could  not  so  suc- 
cessfully say.  Longfellow's  success  shows  that  few  writers  have 
had  his  peculiar  association  of  qualities.  Martin  F.  Tupper 
addressed  as  large  an  audience :  but  his  fatuous,  complacent 
sermonizing  caught  the  proletariat  only,  and  caught  them  on  the 
lower  levels  of  their  intelligence ;  while  Longfellow  —  eloquent, 
sincere,  manly  and  inspiriting  —  pleases  the  aristocracy  as  well 
as  the  plebeians  of  the  mind.  In  short,  Tupper  was  a  doggerel- 
monger  ;  Longfellow,  a  poet. 

Longfellow,  like  Bryant,  was  of  old  New  England  stock ;  and 
both  were  descended  on  the  female  side  from  John  Alden  and 
Priscilla.  But  the  Longfellows  were  people  of  some  means,  and. 
much  social  consideration.     On  the  mother's  —  the  Wadsworth  — 

side  they  were  of  a  military  flavor ;  though  Mrs.  Long- 
descent   ^       fellow  herself  was  for  peace.     In  her  youth  she  was  a 

beautiful,  vivacious,  high-hearted  girl,  fond  of  society, 
given  to  poetry,  music  and  dancing.  Later,  she  became  an 
invalid,  but  was  never  a  lugubrious  one ;  she  loved  nature,  and 
believed  in  the  good  of  human  nature ;  she  was  cheerful,  tranquil 
and  gently  devout. 

The  father  was  a  sound  and  sensible  lawyer,  a  Representative 
in  Congress,  a  cordial,  courteous,  high-spirited  gentleman  of  the 
old  school.  His  domestic  rule  was  strict  but  kindly.  Evidently, 
therefore,  the  young  Longfellow  had  a  more  humane  start  in  life 
than  the  young  Bryant.  There  was  in  him  none  of  the  other's 
Indian  stoicism,  his  instinct  of  privacy  and  self-defence,  nor  his 
precocious  solemnity ;  he  was  cheerful,  hopeful  and  social ;  his 
demeanor  was  frank  and  affectionate ;  he  was  impressionable, 
and  therefore  easily  depressed  ;  but  his  constitutional  buoyancy 
would  presently  bring  him  up  again.  There  were  no  mysteries  in 
his  character — nothing  that  he  need  blush  to  declare,  nor  anything 
so  profound  as  to  be  beyond  his  power  to  declare  it.     He  was 


POETS   OF  THE  FIRST  HALF-CENTURY.  105 

sunshiny,  and  loved  sunshine,  though  he  was  susceptible  of  a 
delicate  pathos,  as  his  readers  know.  He  was  the  antipodes  of 
vulgarity :  under  any  test,  his  nature  always  rang  true  :  he  was 
quite  as  "good  "  as  Irving,  and  not  less  refined  and  amiable ;  but 
he  had  not  Irving's  satiric  vein,  nor  comic,  imperturbable  humor. 
His  mobile  mind  interested  itself  in  a  wide  variety  of  things,  but 
dredged  no  sunless  depths ;  nor,  in  spite  of  "  Excelsior,"  did  it 
scale  any  sublime  heights.  Accepting  him  for  what  he  was,  there 
was  not,  at  the  time  of  his  graduation  from  the  little  rustic  college, 
a  more  charming,  gentle,  companionable  young  fellow  than  Henry 
Wadsworth  Longfellow. 

His  constituent  parts  so  harmonized  and  rhymed  together  that 
he  was  himself  a  human  poem,  as  well  as  a  poet :  or  we  may  say 
he  was  a  poet  in  consequence  of  being  a  poem.     He 
must  express  himself,  and  his  expression  could  only  ?^*  ci»arac- 
be  poetry.     Not  that  he  was  a  helpless,  mechanical 
rhymester,  like  Watts  of  the  Hymn   Book;   he   was   especially 
spontaneous.     And  he  was,  in  his  measure,  as  sincere  and  earnest, 
though  far  from  being  as  serious  as  Bryant.     Like   Hawthorne, 
he  would  as  soon  have  told  a  falsehood  as  have  published  any- 
thing he  had  not  felt  to  be  true ;  and  he  was  like  Emerson  in 
being  unconscious  of  a  conscience ;  it  remained  in  abeyance  in 
him  for  lack  of  occupation.      He  was  innocent  as  a  maiden; 
indeed,  in  spite  of  his  manliness,  there  was  a  touch  of  the  maidenly 
in  Longfellow. 

His  poetry,  after  all  detractions,  remains  a  wonderful  product. 
Some  of  the  best  poems  just  escape  being  platitudinous  prose. 
We  call  over  the  words,  note  the  metre,  gauge  the  sentiment,  but 
the  secret  of  the  charm  eludes  us.     There  was  once  an  old  lady 
who  objected  to  Shakespeare  because  he  was  so  full  of  quotations  ; 
and  it  has  been  urged  in  Longfellow's  behalf  that  it  is  his  poems 
themselves  that  have  made  their  sentiment  seem  commonplace. 
But    this    goes   too    far.      Elementary    truths,    when  pamiUar 
clothed  in  new  and  fit  language,  gain   new  life   and   truths  in 
beneficent  power.     A  picture   hung   long   in   a   cer-   ^^^w  dress, 
tain  place    ceases  to  catch   the    eye ;    and   a   formula   of  truth 


106  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

long  familiar  to  the  ear  ceases  to  reach  the  understanding.  But 
hang  the  picture  elsewhere,  and  word  the  truth  afresh,  and  our 
eyes  and  ears  again  take  hold  on  them.  Now,  Longfellow 
experienced  the  old  familiar  experiences  of  life,  but  they  were 
nevertheless,  to  him,  an  independent  discovery.  And,  being 
the  guileless,  spontaneous  man  that  he  was,  and  gifted  into  the 
bargain  with  poetic  genius,  he  had  the  innocent  and  fortunate 
audacity  to  utter  them  in  his  own  independent  way.  A  self-con- 
scious, distrustful  soul  would  first  have  made  enquiry  whether  this 
thing  had  been  thought  or  said  before,  and  on  being  answered  in 
the  affirmative,  would  have  dropped  it,  in  fear  of  compromising 
his  originality.  One  advantage  of  genius  is,  it  never  disquiets 
itself  about  originality. 

To  enjoy  and  profit  by  Longfellow's  poetry,  we  must  take  it  as 
we  do  fresh  air  and  warm  sunshine.  To  analyze  is  to  alter  them, 
and  so  destroy  their  virtue.  It  is  pedantry  to  cavil  at  Longfellow 
for  creating  poetry  out  of  materials  hitherto  deemed  unpoetical. 
He  felt  the  poem ;  he  made  it.;  nor  can  the  keenest  scalpel,  by 
dissecting  it  into  something  else,  prove  it  unpoetical. 

By  giving  intelligent  and  graceful  form  to  catholic  thoughts,  he 
brought  into  accord  the  heart  and  the  intellect  of  mankind.  In- 
tellectual patricians  grow  to  consider  themselves  of  another  flesh 
and  blood  than  the  groundlings ;  and  the  latter  fancy  that  the 
former  dwell  in  an  atmosphere  that  they  could  not  breath.  Long- 
fellow proved  the  unsubstantiaUty  of  these  principles,  and,  by 
illustrating  the  simpler,  more  primitive  sentiments  and  affections, 
vindicated  the  solidarity  of  the  race  on  the  basis  of 
theSrt  ^^  human  heart.  His  optimism  was  from  first  to 
last  unfaltering ;  there  are  no  morbid  passages  either 
in  his  career  or  in  his  poetry.  Indeed,  the  unity  of  his  life  and 
his  work  is  remarkable,  and  indicates  that  he  drew  his  inspira- 
tion far  more  oVten  from  the  region  of  the  emotions  than  from 
that  of  the  brain. 

The  influence  upon  his  genius  of  foreign  literatures,  the  German 
especially,  is  marked,  but  cannot  be  held  beneficial.  Its  effect 
was  to  hamper  the  freedom  of  his  expression.     None  of  his  trans- 


POETS   OF   THE  FIRST  HALF-CENTURY.  107 

lations  equal  his  original  work.  Freedom  of  expression  was  more 
indispensable  to  Longfellow  than  to  most  poets,  because  the  idea 
in  his  poems  is  so  wedded  to  the  expression  as  to  be  practically 
inseparable  from  it.  To  be  anything,  it  was  essential  that  he 
should  be  himself  exclusively.  His  German  renderings  are  both 
quaint  and  scholarly,  but  in  ceasing  to  be  German  they  do  not 
become  Longfellow.  His  translation  of  Dante  is  a  faithful  and 
noble  piece  of  work,  yet  it  is  wearisome  to  read,  because  the  spirit 
of  the  Italian  tongue  differs  so  radically  from  the  English.  As 
regards  Longfellow's  prose,  its  chief  value  is  to  throw  light  upon 
the  charm  of  his  poetry.  It  is  feeble  prose,  and  inevitably  slips 
out  of  the  memory.  He  could  do  nothing  without  metre  to  help 
him  :  without  metre  his  faults  become  inveterate,  and  his  virtues 
die  away.  So  there  are  men  who  are  good  orators  in  the  presence 
of  an  audience,  but  poor  talkers  in  private.  They  need  a  stimu- 
lus and  a  responsibility  in  order  to  get  out  the  good  that  is  in 
them. 

Longfellow  excelled  in  lyrical  poetry,  and  twice  at  least  he  was 
eminently   successful    in   descriptive    story-telling   in 
unrhymed  verse.     Such  poems  as    the    "Building  of  j^^ poetry 
the    Ship"    and    "The    Skeleton    in    Armor"    stand 
somewhere  between  the  two.     His  sonnets  are  uniformly  sound 
and  good,  and  some  of  them  are  perfect  in  their  degree,  though 
inferior  in  spiritual  exaltation  to  the  great  sonnets  of  Wordsworth, 
Milton  and  Shakespeare.     In  fact,  Longfellow  was  the  poet  not 
of  the  spirit,  but  of  the  letter.     His  poems  are  never  disembodied 
souls ;    they  always  wear  their  material  garments.     At  times,  so 
sweet  and  pure  is  their   form,  the  soul  irradiates  the 
flesh ;    but  it  makes  no  attempt  to  leave   it.      They  ij^^^n!*  ^ 
belong  to  earth,  not  to  heaven,  nor  to  hell.     Long- 
fellow was  too  sympathetically  human  to  rise  to  the  rapt  vision 
of  the  prophet.      The  kindly,  smiling,  pathetic  earth  was  ever 
before  his  eyes,  and  its  voices  were  his  voice.      Doubtless,  the 
human  is  the  habitation  of  the  Divine  :  but  Longfellow's  gentle 
and  tender  nature  dwelt  in  the  day  and  its  doings,  and  he  enter- 
tained his  angels  unawares. 


108  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

"The  Psalm  of  Life,"  the  first  to  be  famous  of  his  poems,  is  not 
didactic.  It  is  the  appeal  for  sympathy  of  one  who  struggles  and 
aspires.  The  didactic  writer  assumes  to  stand  on  a  level  higher 
than  that  of  his  audience,  and  from  his  superior  experience  to 
formulate  rules  for  their  guidance  and  edification.  But  Longfellow 
is  one  of  his  own  audience.  His  hope,  his  effort,  his  sadness,  are 
not  of  the  past,  but  of  the  passing  moment.  It  is  his  manifest 
identification  of  himself  with  us  that  gives  him  the  power  to  move 
us.  The  difference  between  this  and  didacticism  is  similar  to  that 
between  a  living  voice  and  a  lifeless  page  of  print.  Tupper  would 
have  written  "  The  Psalm  of  Life  "  didactically ;  Longfellow  wrote 
it  in  a  sudden  gust  of  emotion  as  it  stands ;  and  it  will  stand  a 
long  time  yet. 

In  "The  Skeleton  in  Armor,"  and  its  kindred,  Longfellow  in- 
dulges his  romantic  vein.  It  is  not  his  strong  point.  As  soon  as 
he  comes  into  competition  with  other  writers,  he  loses  ground. 
His  imagination,  flexible,  facile  and  genial,  lacks  the  depth  and 
strength  for  this  sort  of  work.  We  can  imagine  how  Coleridge 
would  have  written  such  a  poem.  "The  Building  of  the  Ship," 
with  its  candid,  fervent  symbolism,  is  much  more  successful.  The 
human  interest  in  it  just  balances  the  ideal,  and  the  whole  is 
artistic  and  moving.  Such  experiments  as  "  The  Christus  "  have 
the  merit  of  aiming  high,  and  are  the  fruit  of  laborious  pains ;  but 
Longfellow's  success  was  often  in  inverse  proportion  to  his  labor. 
The  "  Trilogy  "  was  one  of  his  miscalculations. 

Parts  of  "  Evangeline  "  have  entered  into  the  language.  No 
long  narrative  poem  —  not  even  the  "  Ihad  "  keeps  the  same  level 
of  excellence  throughout.  "  Evangeline  "  is  kept  alive  t^  reason 
of  its  many  exquisite  lines,  noble  and  touching  passages  and  deli- 
cate descriptions.  It  is  a  beautiful  and  pathetic  love  story,  with  a 
harmonious  background  ;  and  the  conception  of  Evan- 
'.*  ^^*^s:e-  '  geline  herself,  making  herself  a  blessing  to  others  for 
the  sake  of  her  love  for  her  lost  lover,  is  as  fine  as 
anything  this  poet  wrote.  But  when  we  return  to  the  poem,  after 
having  once  read  and  appreciated  it,  we  find  that  the  passages  we 
re- read  are  comparatively  few.     The  characters  are  not  powerfully 


POETS   OF   THE  FIRST  HALF-CENTURY.  109 

nor  vividly  drawn ;  there  are  long  stretches  of  unimportant  narra- 
tive, and,  to  speak  technically,  the  atmosphere  of  the  story  is  some- 
times more  obvious  than  its  features.  On  the  other  hand,  what  is 
good  in  it  is  lovely  with  an  exalted  and  immortal  loveliness ;  and 
the  sonorous  music  of  its  verse  perfumes  the  memory.  The  other 
narrative  poems,  with  .the  exception  of  "  Hiawatha,"  need  not 
detain  us. 

''  Hiawatha  "  is  somewhat  on  the  plan  of  the  Norse  eddas.  Its 
short  metre,  with  its  repetitions  and  expansions,  is  representative 
of  the  primitive,  unsophisticated  character  of  the  aborigines  ;  and 
the  series  of  legends  which  compose  it,  following  one  another 
without  apparent  connection*,  are  nevertheless  bound  together  by 
the  thread  of  Hiawatha's  life.  We  have  had  translations  of  the 
eddas  and  sagas ;  but  this  was  a  native  American 
poem,  and,  in  so  far,  was  of  a  form  and  character  un-  ^^f,^*" 
precedented  in  our  literature.  It  has  a  unique  beauty 
and  fascination  :  as  charming  as  a  fairy  tale,  there  is  a  chord  of 
wild  melancholy  vibrating  through  it;  figures  strange,  beautiful 
and  terrible  peer  at  us  out  of  the  tameless  wilderness  that  is 
the  background :  savage  beasts  enter  into  the  story  and  play 
their  part  like  the  human  characters  :  Nature  herself  is  human- 
ized, and  the  human  creatures  seem  at  times  to  be  resolved 
into  the  forces  of  nature.  Grim  and  weird  passions  are  inex- 
tricably intertwined  with  qualities  artless  as  those  of  childhood. 
Minnehaha,  the  Indian  girl,  and  wife  of  Hiawatha,  is  a  master- 
piece of  poetic  beauty,  a  creation  that  only  a  true  poet  could  have 
brought  forth,  or  would  have  ventured  to  attempt.  Hiawatha  is 
himself  a  noble  conception ;  and,  fantastic  as  is  the  tale,  there  is 
a  human  heart  in  it,  compelling  the  reader's  heart  to  sympathize 
and  listen.  "Hiawatha"  stands  alone;  it  had  no  predecessors 
and  it  can  have  no  followers.  Founded  upon  the  basis  of  the 
mass  of  Indian  legends  and  traditions  that  have  come  to  us,  and 
of  which  it  makes  a  most  judicious  and  fortunate  selection,  it  is 
yet  a  work  of  original  genius,  —  original  in  itself,  and  original  as 
regards  rts  author;  for  it  divides  Longfellow's  poetry  into  two 
distinct  parts,  one  of  which  is  "  Hiawatha,"  and  the  other  all  his 


AMERICAN  LITER  A  TURE. 

Other  poems.  Had  Longfellow  never  written  it,  he  would  not  have 
merited  the  half  of  his  present  reputation.  In  idea  and  execution 
alike  it  is  an  inspiration ;  for  although,  being  written,  one  feels 
that  no  one  but  Longfellow  could  have  written  it,  yet,  until  he 
wrote  it,  no  one  could  have  believed  him  capable  of  such  an 
achievement.  No  previous  work  of  his  h^d  lighted  the  way  to  it, 
nor  do  we  find  its  echo  in  any  subsequent  one.  Like  all  his  best 
productions  —  like  all  sound  art  anywhere  —  it  cannot  be  con- 
sidered save  as  a  whole.  Had  the  metre  been  different,  all  would 
have  been  different.  It  is  a  sudden  crystallization  of  form  and 
substance  ;  a  happy  marriage,  not  to  be  dissolved. 

Upon  the  lyrics  and  ''  Evangeline,"  and  upon  "  Hiawatha," 
The  poems  Longfellow's  renown  securely  rests.  His  sonnets  add 
that  secure  to  his  reputation,  but  would  not  of  themselves  have 
his  ame.  made  it.  In  the  character  of  the  man  himself  could 
be  found  all  that  made  his  poetry  delightful ;  and  his  face  was 
the  mirror  of  his  harmonious  and  lovely  mind. 


Selections  and  Exercises. 
RESIGNATION. 

There  is  no  flock,  however  watched  and  tended, 

But  one  dead  lamb  is  there  ! 
There  is  no  fireside,  howsoe'er  defended, 

But  has  one  vacant  chair  ! 

The  air  is  full  of  farewells  to  the  dying, 

And  mournings  for  the  dead  ; 
The  heart  of  Rachel,  for  her  children  crying. 

Will  not  be  comforted  ! 

Let  us  be  patient !     These  severe  afflictions 

Not  from  the  ground  arise. 
But  oftentimes  celestial  benedictions 

Assume  this  dark  disguise. 


POETS   OF   THE  FIRST  HALF-CENTURY.  Ill 

We  see  but  dimly  through  the  mists  and  vapors ; 

Amid  these  earthly  damps 
What  seem  to  us  but  sad,  funereal  tapers 

May  be  heaven's  distant  lamps. 

There  is  no  Death  !     What  seems  so  is  transition ; 

This  hfe  of  mortal  breath 
Is  but  a  suburb  of  the  life  elysian, 

Whose  portal  we  call  Death. 

She  is  not  dead,  —  the  child  of  our  affection,  — 

But  gone  unto  that  school 
Where  she  no  longer  needs  our  poor  protection. 

And  Christ  himself  doth  rule. 

In  that  great  cloister's  stillness  and  seclusion, 

By  guardian  angels  led, 
Safe  from  temptation,  safe  from  sin's  pollution, 

She  lives,  whom  we  call  dead. 

Day  after  day  we  think  what  she  is  doing 

In  those  bright  realms  of  air ; 
Year  after  year,  her  tender  steps  pursuing. 

Behold  her  grown  more  fair. 

Thus  do  we  walk  with  her,  and  keep  unbroken 

The  bond  which  nature  gives. 
Thinking  that  our  remembrance,  though  unspoken. 

May  reach  her  where  she  lives. 

Not  as  a  child  shall  we  again  behold  her ; 

For  when  with  raptures  wild 
In  our  embraces  we  again  enfold  her. 

She  will  not  be  a  child ; 

But  a  fair  maiden,  in  her  Father's  mansion, 

Clothed  with  celestial  grace ; 
And  beautiful  with  all  the  soul's  expansion 

Shall  we  behold  her  face. 


112  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

And  though  at  times  impetuous  with  emotion 

And  anguish  long  suppressed, 
The  swelUng  heart  heaves  moaning  Hke  the  ocean, 

That  cannot  be  at  rest,  — 

We  will  be  patient,  and  assuage  the  feeling 

We  may  not  wholly  stay ; 
By  silence  sanctifying,  not  concealing. 

The  grief  that  must  have  way. 

What  is  the  purpose  of  the  first  two  stanzas  ?  Is  exaggeration 
used  to  produce  the  desired  effect?  Do  you  suppose  Longfellow 
always  felt  "  the  air  full  of  farewells  to  the  dying  "  ?  What  made 
him  feel  so  at  this  time?  From  whence  do. our  afflictions  come? 
Does  the  author  believe  in  immortality?  How  does  he  express 
his  belief?  How  does  he  comfort  himself?  What  resolve  does 
he  make  ?  Write  this  poem  in  your  own  language.  Is  the  thought 
striking  or  original  ?  In  what  does  the  beauty  of  the  poem  con- 
sist ?    Study  and  describe  the  imagery. 


THE  RAINY  DAY. 

The  day  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary ; 
It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary ; 
The  vine  still  clings  to  the  mouldering  wall, 
But  at  every  gust  the  dead  leaves  fall. 
And  the  day  is  dark  and  dreary. 

My  life  is  cold,  and  dark,  and  dreary ; 
It  rains,  and  the  wind  is  never  weary ; 
My  thoughts  still  cling  to  the  mouldering  Past, 
But  the  hopes  of  youth  fall  thick  in  the  blast, 
And  the  days  are  dark  and  dreary. 

Be  still,  sad  heart !  and  cease  repining ; 
Behind  the  clouds  is  the  sun  still  shining ; 


POETS   OF   THE  FIRST  HALF-CENTURY.  113 

Thy  fate  is  the  common  fate  of  all, 
Into  each  Hfe  some  rain  must  fall, 

Some  days  must  be  dark  and  dreary. 

At  what  season  of  the  year  must  this  day  have  been  ?  Do  you 
think  such  a  day  well  described  ?  Trace  the  comparison  between 
the  life  and  the  day.  What  is  the  reflection  at  the  end?  In 
what  does  the  beauty  of  this  poem  consist  ? 


A   PSALM   OF   LIFE. 

WHAT  THE   HEART  OF  THE  YOUNG  MAN   SAID  TO  THE  PSALMIST. 

Tell  me  not,  in  mournful  numbers, 

Life  is  but  an  empty  dream  ! 
For  the  soul  is  dead  that  slumbers. 

And  things  are  not  what  they  seem. 

Life  is  real !     Life  is  earnest ! 

And  the  grave  is  not  its  goal ; 
Dust  thou  art,  to  dust  returnest. 

Was  not  spoken  of  the  soul. 

Not  enjoyment,  and  not  sorrow, 

Is  our  destined  end  or  way ; 
But  to  act,  that  each  to-morrow 

Find  us  farther  than  to-day'. 

Art  is  long,  and  Time  is  fleeting. 

And  our  hearts,  though  stout  and  brave, 

StiU,  like  muffled  drums,  are  beating 
Funeral  marches  to  the  grave. 

In  the  world's  broad  field  of  battle, 

In  the  bivouac  of  Life, 
Be  not  like  dumb,  driven  cattle  ! 

Be  a  hero  in  the  strife  ! 


114  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Trust  no  Future,  howe'er  pleasant ! 

Let  the  dead  Past  bury  its  dead  ! 
Act,  —  act  in  the  Hvirig  Present ! 

Heart  within,  and  God  o'erhead  ! 

Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 

We  can  make  our  lives  sublime, 
And,  departing,  leave  behind  us 

Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time ;  — 

Footprints,  that  perhaps  another. 

Sailing  o'er  hfe's  solemn  main, 
A  forlorn  and  shipwrecked  brother, 

Seeing,  shall  take  heart  again. 

Let  us,  then,  be  up  and  doing. 

With  a  heart  for  any  fate ; 
Still  achieving,  still  pursuing, 

Learn  to  labor  and  to  wait. 

This  poem  was  pubhshed  in  1839  :  how  old  was  the  poet  then? 
Is  a  poet  likely  to  write  a  valuable  "  Psalm  of  Life  "  at  such  an 
age?  Is  Longfellow's  attempt  an  exception?  This  poem  is 
popular  with  a  certain  class  of  people  :  can  you  guess  the  class 
and  tell  why  it  pleases  the  people  of  this  class  ?  Write  in  your 
own  language  the  meaning  of  each  stanza.  Is  the  poem  a  close 
logical  chain?  State  the  connection  between  the  first  and  second 
stanzas.  Between  the  second  and  third  stanzas.  Between  the 
third  and  fourth.  Continue  the  process  through  the  poem.  If 
the  poem  cannot  be  called  a  chain,  what  can  you  call  it?  Are 
the  figures  good?  Is  the  philosophy  striking  or  novel?  Does 
it  hold  up  the  right  ideal?  Does  it  spur  you  up  to  the  right 
thing  in  the  right  way? 

"  HIAWATHA." 

Study  this  poem  part  by  part  until  you  know  the  purpose  of 
each  part,  the  means  used  to  accomplish  the  purpose,  and  the 
connection  of  each  with  the  purpose  of  the  whole  poem.     Study 


POETS   OF  THE  FIRST  HALF-CENTURY.  115 

the  imagery  used.  Does  the  poem  seem  to  have  the  atmosphere  of 
a  genuine  Indian  legend  ?  What  ideal  of  the  Indian  does  it  present  ? 
Describe  the  style  of  verse.  Does  the  form  seem  appropriate  for 
the  matter?      Which  of  the  parts  do  you  Hke  best?     Why? 

Note.  —  "  Hiawatha"  may  be  had  in  Nos.  13  and  14  of  "  Riverside  Literature 
Series"  (15  cents  each). 

"  Evangeline,"  with  portrait  and  biographical  sketch  of  the  author,  an  historical 
introduction,  and  notes  to  the  poem  may  be  had  in  No.  i  of  the  "  Riverside 
Literature  Series"  (15  cents).  No.  2  contains  "  The  Courtship  of  Miles  Standish  " 
with  notes.     If  time  can  be  found,  studies  should  be  made  of  the  two  poems. 

General.  —  To  classify  his  output.  Name  his  prose  works. 
What  was  the  nature  of  each  one  ?  What  did  he  do  in  the  way 
of  translation?  Name  his  long  poems.  Are  they  historical  or 
entirely  imaginative ?  How  many  ballads?  How  many  sonnets? 
How  many  "songs"  ?  How  many  tales?  Do  you  find  any 
martial  lyrics  ?  Patriotic  ?  What  poems  bear  upon  domestic  life  ? 
What  ones  may  be  called  nature  poems  ?  What  ones  are  reflec- 
tive or  didactic  ?     How  many  slavery  poems  ? 

To  determine  his  skill  as  an  artist.  Do  you  find  many  meas- 
ures? Do  you  find  original  measures?  Do  you  find  skill  in 
handling  the  ones  he  selects  ?  Is  his  verse  flowing  and  melodious  ? 
Is  its  music  soft  or  sonorous  ?  Do  you  find  him  using  complicated 
forms  ?  What  is  the  quality  of  his  translations  ?  In  what  form  is 
he  most  successful?  Compare  him  as  an  artist  with  Byrant. 
With  Whittier.    With  Lowell.     With  Lanier. 

To  determine  the  quality  of  his  work.  Is  his  style  lofty,  or 
simple?  Does  his  poetry  express  fire  and  passion?  Original 
thought?  Deep  philosophy?  E very-day  philosophy?  Does  he 
rise  to  tragedy?  Do  you  find  pathos?  Humor?  Does  he  repre- 
sent exceptional,  or  common  life?  Heroic,  or  simple  virtues? 
Is  he  didactic  ?  Is  his  work  distinctively  American  ?  Does  his 
work  spring  from  the  study  or  from  observation  and  experience  of 
actual  life?  Is  he  a  reformer  or  2,  doctrinnaire  ?  Is  his  poetry 
the  product  of  a  cultivated  intellect  following  classical  models,  or 
the  outburst  of  an  original,  untrained  genius  ?  What  makes  you 
say  so  ?  He  is  said  to  be  the  poet  of  the  great  middle  class  :  do 
you  think  this  just?     Why? 


116  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

R.  H.  Dana  (1787-1879)  — who  must  not  be  confounded  with 
his  son  R.  H.  Dana,  who  wrote  the  famous  sea-narrative,  "Two 
Years  before  the  Mast"  —  became  known  chiefly  as  a  critic  of 
poetry,  though  he  was  also  a  poet.  During  the  years  181 7  to 
18 19,  he  contributed  a  series  of  critical  papers  to  "The  North 
American  Review,"  in  one  of  which  he  reviewed  the  entire  field  of 
English  poetry  previous  to,  and  inclusive  of,  Wordsworth.  Noth- 
ing approaching  the  taste,  insight  and  subtle  analysis  of  this  essay 
had  before  been  done  in  America  :  he  grasped  all  the  character- 
istics of  English  poetic  literature  ;  and  his  examination  of  Words- 
worth and  Coleridge,  in  particular,  is  profound  and  illuminating. 
His  lectures  on  Shakespeare  increased  his  reputation :  and  in 
182 1,  at  the  age  of  thirty-four,  he  began  a  quarterly  magazine, 
"  The  Idle  Man,"  to  which  he  contributed  two  novels  of  a  psycho- 
logic cast,  "  Tom  Thornton  "  and  "  Paul  Felton."  Rugged  and 
abrupt  in  style  and  intense  in  feeling,  they  portray  the  darker 
human  passions,  set  off  against  a  stern  glow  of  moral  purpose. 
His  poems,  published  in  1827,  under  the  title  of  "  The  Buccaneer, 
and  Other  Poems,"  were  too  psychological  to  be  popular :  but 
they  picture  with  striking  vividness  both  the  outward  and  the  in- 
ward world,  and  show  a  truly  Calvinistic  conception  of  the  reality 
of  sin.  Their  power  is  greater  than  their  art :  and  their  beauty 
is  overshadowed  by  their  gloom.  Dana  was  one  of  those  men 
who  gave  glimpses  of  powers  apparently  equal  to  any  achievement, 
but  who  never  —  for  whatever  reason  —  achieve  quite  what  is 
expected  of  them. 

Washington  Allston  (i 779-1843)  was  the  American  pioneer 
of  general  culture.  The  crude  age  in  which  he  lived  was  aston- 
ished at  his  doctrine,  and  regarded  him  as  a  prophet.  He  was  a 
painter,  and  his  pictures  have  grace  and  a  certain  spiritual  come- 
liness, but  they  lack  strength  and  fibre.  He  wrote  a 
of  culture  romance,  "  Monalde,"  which  had  many  excellences, 
but  not  the  quality  of  impressiveness ;  unless  we 
except  the  description  of  a  picture  of  a  soul  struggling  in  the 
toils  of  sin,  which  is  more  effective  than  any  of  Allston's  actual 


POETS   OF  THE  FIRST  HALF-CENT URY.  117 

pictures.  He  lectured  on  art,  and  his  audiences  sat  in  rapt 
enthusiasm;  but  no  echo  of  his  lectures  now  remains.  He 
"  conversed "  in  the  monologue  fashion  afterwards  adopted  by 
Alcott,  Margaret  Fuller  and  other  enlightened  minds  of  the 
period,  and  his  interlocutors  were  ravished  by  his  wisdom ;  but 
they  neglected  to  take  down  the  words  in  which  he  propounded 
it.  He  meekly  patronized  the  disciples  who  came  to  him  for 
spiritual  and  aesthetic  counsel  and  consolation,  and,  to  adopt  the 
language  of  one  of  them,  "  he  lived  above  the  world,  happy  in  the 
free  exercise  and  guardianship  of  his  varied  powers."  Finally, 
he  produced  some  sonnets  which  are  placid  and  pale-hued  records 
of  personal  feeling,  and  whose  chief  merit  is  the  negative  one  of 
being  free  from  vulgarity.  But  though  the  definite  information  to 
be  had  about  Allston  arouses  a  certain  intellectual  impatience,  it 
would  be  wrong  to  dismiss  him  as  a  vapid  and  featureless  pre- 
tender. He  was  both  loved  and  admired  by  some  of  the  ablest 
men  and  women  of  his  day.  Dana  speaks  of  his  mind  as  having 
"  the  glad  but  gentle  brightness  of  a  star,  sending  pure  influences 
into  your  heart,  and  making  it  kind  and  cheerful."  Mrs.  Jameson, 
the  English  writer  on  art,  expressed  her  surprise  to  witness  such 
opulence  of  thought  conveyed  in  such  seemingly  careless  talk; 
Whipple  alludes  to  "  the  inestimable  privilege  of  hearing  him  con- 
verse " ;  and  when  he  died,  the  general  exclamation  was,  "  what 
a  light  is  extinguished  !  "  Probably,  as  Whipple  himself  suggests, 
'  he  was  "  one  of  those  men  whose  works  are  hardly  the  measure  of 
their  powers  —  who  can  talk  better  than  they  can  write,  and  con- 
ceive more  vividly  than  they  can  execute." 

Fitz-Greene   Halleck    (i  790-1867).      Here   was   a   man   of 
strong   individuality,  and  of  power  well  distributed  and  propor- 
tioned, who  resembled  Dana  and  Allston  only  in  not  having  ful- 
filled the  hopes  that  were  entertained  of  him.     But,  in  his  case, 
negligence   proceeded,    not   from    any   characteristic   one  of  our 
lack  of  force,  or   ability  of  expression,  nor   from  a  earliest 
conviction  that  his  mental  affiliations  were  too  alien  ^®^"* 
from   those   of  the  generality  to   admit  of  any  prospect  of  a 


118  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

mutual  understanding.  Halleck's  mode  of  expression  was  strong, 
direct  and  masculine  :  there  was  no  mysticism  in  his  compo- 
sition ;  he  had  good  sense,  sturdy  humor  and  hearty  emotions ; 
what  he  said  he  meant,  and  there  was  never  any  difficulty  about 
comprehending  him.  Moreover,  he  possessed  an  imagination 
that  was  vivid,  though  not  sublime,  an  unusual  command  of 
words,  and,  thanks  to  much  practice  in  childhood,  singular 
facility  in  the  use  of  rhyme  and  metre.  But  there  was  in 
Halleck  a  semi-jocose  cynicism  and  skepticism,  which,  when  his 
feelings  were  not  aroused,  led  him  to  pooh-pooh  inspiration  and 
ambition,  and  to  excuse  an  innate  tendency  to  intellectual  indo- 
lence by  insisting  upon  the  vanity  of  mortal  achievements  and 
aspirations.  This  attribute  became  confirmed  as  he  grew  older, 
and  more  than  half  his  life  was  passed  unproductively  so  far  as 
literature  was  concerned.  There  was  a  touch  of  Thackeray  in 
his  temperament,  but  physically  he  was  a  rather  small,  lean,  dry 
man,  courteous  and  agreeable,  but  given  somewhat  to  irony.  In 
his  youth,  he  was  a  man-about-town,  and  he  and  his  friend  Drake 
amused  themselves  and  New  York  by  writing,  and  publishing  in 
the  "  Post,"  a  series  of  rhymed  squibs  on  society  called  the 
"  Croaker  Papers."  Halleck  afterwards  wrote  "  Fanny,"  a  narra- 
tive satire  in  verse  in  the  vein  of  "  Miss  Kilmansegg,"  and 
"  Nothing  to  Wear."  His  serious  pieces  were  better.  *•  Marco 
Bozzaris "  is  as  widely  known  as  anything  in  American  verse : 
"  Alnwick  Castle,"  fruit  of  a  visit  to  Europe,  is  good  and  spirited 
descriptive  poetry ;  "  Red  Jacket  "  is  an  effective  piece  of  Indian 
portraiture ;  "  Burns  "  is  written  with  more  depth  of  feeling  and 
explicit  homage  than  he  was  accustomed  to  betray,  and  the  lines 
on  the  death  of  Drake  came  from  his  heart  and  have  become  a 
part  of  our  language.  Halleck  professed  great  admiration  for 
Campbell's  concise  and  powerful  poetry :  he  thought  Byron  a 
rhetorician.  He  was  fond  of  old  books,  of  men  and  of  the  city, 
though  he  lived  much  of  his  life  at  Guilford,  where  he  was  born. 
He  was  employed  in  the  office  of  John  Jacob  Astor,  and  his  toler- 
able pecuniary  circumstances  contributed  to  his  literary  idleness. 
He  was  conservative  in  politics :  his  father  had  been  a  royalist 


r  POETS   OF   THE  FIRST  HALF-CENTURY.  119 

during  the  Revolution.     For  a  man  who  did  so  little,  Halleck  is 
^'        well  remembered. 

Joseph  Rodman  Drake  (i  795-1820)  was  according  to  Hal- 
leck, "  the  handsomest  man  in  New  York,  with  a  figure  Hke  an 
Apollo."  He  was  a  youth  of  buoyant  spirits  but  delicate  health; 
playful,  disputatious,  full  of  healthy  sentiment,  an  ardent  patriot : 
he  had  fancy,  but  not  genius ;  his  poetizing  tendency  was  strong, 
and  he  indulged  it  easily  though  carelessly.  Neither  Drake  nor 
Halleck  paid  much  attention  to  finish  and  accuracy  in  their  work. 
Drake  was  poor,  but  married  a  wealthy  young  woman  who  was 
much  in  love  with  him.  He  travelled  to  Europe,  and  afterwards 
to  New  Orleans,  in  the  hope  of  staving  off  consumption ;  but  the 
disease  carried  him  off  the  following  year,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five. 

Drake's  "  Ode  on  the  American  Flag  "  first  appeared  in  the  New 
York  "Evening  Post"  over  the  signature  of  "Croaker."  There 
is  fire  in  it,  inclining  to  fireworks  :  overmuch  color, 
figures  too  extravagant :  but  it  is  all  in  keeping,  and  ^^^  KeSs!^' 
its  sincerity  of  feeling  has  kept  it  alive.  The  four 
concluding  lines  are  said  to  have  been  written  by  Halleck.  "  The 
Culprit  Fay  "  is  a  much  longer  poem,  in  the  style  of  Walter  Scott's 
romantic  verse.  It  overflows  with  dehcate  and  playful  fancy,  and 
tells  its  tale  with  vivacity.  It  has  the  merit  of  an  American  back- 
ground, though,  indeed,  Fairyland  can  hardly  be  confined  by 
geographical  conditions.  Its  local  and  temporary  fame  were 
remarkable  ;  but  grace  and  fancy  help  little  towards  immortality, 
especially  when  employed  so  heedlessly  as  by  Drake. 

The  names  of  several  minor  versifiers  are  connected  with  this 
period  ;  but  the  student  can  afford  to  pass  them  by.  Poe  has  been 
already  considered  ;  Emerson,  whose  poetry  was  incorporate  with 
his  philosophy,  will  be  examined  in  the  next  chapter. 


120  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


VII. 
RELIGIOUS  AND   SOCIAL   REFORMERS. 

New  and  untested  circumstances  make  the  mind  restless  and 
speculative.  A  man  who  finds  himself  for  the  first  time  in  a 
strange  country  feels  an  impulse  to  cut  loose  from  the  habits  of 
his  previous  life,  and  try  strange  experiments.  He  wishes  to  make 
a  new  interior  world,  to  answer  to  the  new  external  one. 

After  America  had  taken  her  place  among  the  nations  of  the 
earth,  a  restlessness  of  this  kind  began  to  be  manifested  by  a 
certain  class  of  the  population.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that 
America  a  America  represented  a  fresh  departure  in  the  direc- 
new  depar-  tion  of  civil  and  religious  freedom.  It  was  not  simply 
*^®'  an  aggregation  of  people  in  a  remote   geographical 

region :  it  was  the  incarnation  of  a  great  spiritual  idea.  And, 
since  one  advance  or  reform  suggests  others,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  America  should  have  become  the  arena  of  numerous  social 
and  religious  theorists. 

Moreover,  a  spirit  of  change  had,  for  a  good  many  years  past, 
begun  to  disturb  the  atmosphere  of  Christendom  in  Europe.  The 
French  Revolution,  at  the  close  of  the  last  century,  had  attempted 
virtually  to  uproot  nearly  all  human  beliefs  and  traditions,  and  to 
make  the  world  over  new.  A  reaction  followed  with  proportionate 
swiftness ;  but  not  a  few  of  the  ideas  then  struck  out  continued  to 
live,  and  exert  an  influence.  One  French  philosopher,  Fourier 
by  name,  published  his  views  in  several  elaborate 
utoUs  volumes,    going   over   the   whole    ground    of   human 

civihzation,  proposing  radical  reforms  and  casting 
the  horoscope  of  the  future.  These  books  found  readers  in  the 
United  States,  and  not  a  few.  of  the  readers  became  disciples  also. 
Coleridge,  in  England,  had  a  scheme  of  communistic  life,  which 


RELIGIOUS  AND   SOCIAL  REFORMERS.  121 

he  called  "  Pantisocracy,"  and  in  which  he  interested  Southey, 
Lovell  and  others.  Godwin  and  Shelley  were  hkewise  dissatisfied 
with  things  as  they  were,  and  had  plans,  more  or  less  definite, 
for  altering  them  for  the  better.  All  these  radicals  took  their  cue 
from  Plato,  who,  centuries  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  had  evolved 
the  conception  of  his  "  Republic." 

But  more  actual  experiments  were  made  in  America  than  else- 
where. The  visionary  was  oddly  mingled  with  the  practical. 
Reforms  were  urged,  separately  or  collectively,  on  almost  all  lines 
conceivable.  Besides  the  comprehensive  Fourierites,  and  other 
communistic  groups  deriving  from  his,  there  were  persons  who 
proposed  to  abolish  liquor,  war  and  executions  ;  to  bring  woman's 
dress  into  conformity  with  man's ;  to  introduce  various  modifica- 
tions into  diet ;  to  do  away  with  money,  and  even 
with  books ;  to  dispense  with  the  ceremony  of  mar-  experiments 
riage,  leaving  men  and  women  free  to  make  and 
unmake  bonds  of  union  at  pleasure ;  to  put  an  end  to  all  carnal 
unions ;  to  repudiate  all  outward  administration  of  law,  leaving 
man  to  be  a  law  unto  himself;  to  pretermit  religious  forms  and 
observances ;  and  more  of  the  same  sort.  Other  and  wiser  men, 
perceiving  that  human  nature  was  at  the  bottom  of  human  insti- 
tutions, and  would  revive  whatever  should  be  destroyed,  sought 
to  carry  the  war  into  a  more  interior  region,  and,  by  philosophical 
reasonings  and  demonstrations,  to  persuade  mankind  to  a  vital 
abandonment  of  error.  But  the  majority  of  those  who  were  at 
odds  with  existing  things,  were  rather  destructive  than  creative. 

Several  communities  were  formed,  and  a  few  of  them,  such  as 
the  Shakers,  still  survive.  In  1830,  a  man  named  Joseph  Smith 
founded  the  sect  of  Mormons,  with  a  new  book  of  Divine  Revela- 
tion, and  a  dogma  of  polygamy.  William  Miller,  in  1839,  prophe- 
sied the  approaching  destruction  of  the  world,  and  made  many 
converts  to  his  doctrine.  The  Oneida  community  was  based  upon 
pecuhar  views  as  to  the  relations  of  the  sexes.  Some  of  the  most 
enhghtened  persons  of  the  time  met  at  Brook  Farm,  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Boston,  and  tried  to  live  a  primitive  and  philosophic 
life.     A  great  deal  of  earnestness  was  sporadically  exhibited  ;  but 


122  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

the  nation  at  large  was  affected  only  by  the  agitation  for  the  abo- 
lition of  slavery.  To  the  results  of  this  agitation  we  have  already 
alluded. 

Whatever  was  really  important  in  the  questionings  of  this  period 
was  embodied  in  the  writings  of  a  handful  of  men  of  genius.  The 
significance  of  some  of  these  writings  has  only  begun  to  be  appre- 
ciated. They  reflect  the  pure  essence  of  the  spirit  of  the  time. 
Their  visible  practical  effect  has  been  small,  but  the  seed  they 
sowed  is  likely  to  produce  larger  results  as  time  goes  on.  In 
order  to  acquire  an  insight  into  the  general  aspect  and  drift  of  the 
fermentations  at  work  between  1830  and  1850,  the  student  may 
profitably  read  Nathaniel  Hawthorne's  "  Earth's  Holocaust "  and 
his  "  Blithedale  Romance."  They  were  written  forty  years  ago 
or  more  ;  but  in  them  Hawthorne  weighed  what  was  passing,  and 
delivered  thereon  the  impartial  verdict  of  posterity. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  (i 803-1 882)  was  born  in  Boston  on 

May  25th.     Of  the  five  sons  of  his  parents,  he  was  the  second. 

His  ancestors  had  been  clergymen  for  several  generations.     His 

father,  Rev.  William  Emerson,  died  when  Ralph  was  eight  years 

old.     His  aunt,  Mary  Moody  Emerson,  a  good  classical  scholar, 

directed   his  studies ;    and   her   friend   Sarah  Bradford,   another 

,     ,^         singularly  learned  woman,  assisted  her.     At  fourteen, 

Early  life.  o         y  ?  1 

Ralph  entered  Harvard  College.     Neither  at  school 

nor  at  college  was  he  distinguished.  He  liked  the  insight  into 
forms  of  life  to  be  found  in  the  classic  authors ;  he  found  nourish- 
ment in  Montaigne  and  the  poets ;  he  disagreed  with  mathemat- 
ics ;  and  in  general  he  acted  upon  a  principle  that  he  enunciated 
long  afterwards  :  "  What  we  do  not  call  education  is  more  gracious 
than  what  we  do  call  so."  Neither  was  he  given  to  bodily  sports ; 
while  as  to  his  moral  deportment,  he  could  not  be  said  to  have 
any.  He  was  pure  and  upright  by  instinct,  and  knew  of  "  temp- 
tation "  by  hearsay  only.  Virtue,  as  implying  struggle  with  and 
victory  over  evil,  was  never  predicable  of  Emerson.  Goodness 
and  truth  were  spontaneous  in  him ;  and  he  was  inveterately 
innocent  from  first  to  last. 


RELIGIOUS  AND  SOCIAL  REFORMERS.  123 

The  family  was  poor :  Ralph's  brother  William  earned  money 
by  teaching  school,  part  of  which  went  to  maintain  Ralph  in  col- 
lege ;  the  latter  also  practised  pedagogy.     Two  years  after  gradu- 
ating he  began  studying  for  the  ministry  under  Dr.  William  Ellery 
Channing.     In  1823,  he  was  ready  for  the  pulpit,  but  his  ill  health 
took  him  to  Florida.     In  1829,  he  was  appointed  pastor  of  the 
Second  Church  in  Boston,  married  Miss  Ellen  Tucker  and  set  to 
work.     Three  years  later  his  wife  died,  and  Emerson,  who  had 
found  himself  out  of.  accord  with   orthodox  theology,  resigned 
explicitly  from  the  clerical  calling,  and  went  to  Europe.     He  met 
there  whosoever  was  of  intellectual  eminence  sufficient  to  attract 
his  curiosity.     Among  them  was  Thomas  Carlyle,  whose  friendship 
with  Emerson  is  part  of  their  common  history.     In 
1833,  returning  home,  he  lived  in  the  "Old  Manse"   j^gtoryr 
at  Concord.     That  autumn  he  began  the  practice  of 
Lyceum-lecturing  which  he  was   to  continue  for  six   and   forty 
years.     In   1836,  he  wrote  his  first  essay,  ''Nature,"  of  which, 
during  the  ensuing  twelve  years,  was 
sold  an  average  of  one  copy  every 
ten  days.     At  the  time  of  his  death, 
he  was  the  author  of  rather  less  than 
a  dozen  volumes  of  essays,  criticising 
and  expounding  life,  and  of  a  col- 
lection of  poems,  written  from  the 
same  point  of  view,   and  with   the 
same  aim  as  the  essays.     Compara- 

^  ^  Emerson  s   House. 

tively  small  in   amount   though   his 

literary  work  was,  its  quality  had  made  him  famous  all  over  the 
world :  the  little  house  in  Concord  where  he  dwelt  with  his 
second  wife  and  family,  was  the  goal  of  pilgrims  from  all  civilized 
nations.  He  was  loved  and  reverenced  as  few  men  have  been, 
his  reputation  shed  lustre  upon  his  country,  and  the  stimulus  he 
imparted  to  pure  living  and  high  thinking  was  extraordinary.  ^ 

His  ancestors,  being  both  Puritan  and  clerical,  had  maintained 
a  behavior  morally  unimpeachable  during  several  generations  :  but 
the  Calvinistic  doctrines  did  not  sour  in  them  the  native  milk 


124  AMERICAN  LITERA  TURE. 

of  human  kindness  and  charity.     They  found  the  doing  of  good  a 
task  more  congenial  than  denouncing  woe  and  punishment. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  consequently,  was  bom  with  a  disposi- 
tion nearly  angelic.  The  human  nature  in  him  was  the  same  as 
in  all  men,  but  those  elements  of  it  that  prompt  to 
disp^sftlon.  disobedience  of  moral  laws  were  in  abeyance.  And 
though  Emerson  could  not  help  knowing  that  good- 
ness must  have  a  logical  opposite,  known  as  evil,  and  that  many 
persons  habitually  break  the  ter\  commandments,  yet  this  was 
purely  hearsay  knowledge  on  his  part :  he  had  had  no  personal 
experience  of  its  truth.  /  He  therefore  was  as  an  intelligent  inhabi- 
tant of  an  equatorial  region  who  hears  about  the  state  of  things 
at  the  poles.  He  recognizes  that  ice  and  cold  are  possible,  and 
his  confidence  in  the  veracity  of  his  informants  assures  him  that 
these  phenomena  actually  exist.  But  how  they  feel  or  what  they 
look  like  he  can  only  conjecture. 

From  the  nature  of  the  case,  Emerson  could  not  have  realized 
the  singularity  of  his  relation  as  regarded  evil.  Being  like  other 
men  in  other  respects,  why  not  also  as  to  his  moral  status?  And 
his  ignorance  of  the  truth  was  inevitably  shared  by  his  disciples. 
They  believed  that  he  strove  so  constantly  and  vigorously  against 
temptation  that  it  never  overcame  him  :  whereas  he  supposed  evil  to 
be  absolutely  what  moralists  describe  it  as  being  relatively,  namely, 
evil-smelling  and  revolting;  and  that  his  avoidance  of  it  was 
no  more  commendable  than  is  a  fastidious  woman's  avoidance  of 
assafoetida  and  lepers.  Thai  evil  could  ever  seem  alluring  and 
desirable,  it  never  entered  into  his  head  to  conceive  :  nor  could  he, 
therefore,  comprehend  what  appeared  to  him  to  be  the  insane 
perversity  of  its  votaries. 

'  In  short,  Emerson  was  that  rare  phenomenon,  a  type  of  pure 
human  innocence.  /  He  neither  did,  nor  was  tempted  to  do,  evil. 
The  experience  that  reveals  to  a  man  that  he  is  compact  of  evil, 
from  which  only  God's  mercy  can  rescue  him  —  in  religious  par- 
lance, regeneration  —  was  as  unknown  to  Emerson  as 
tanocence  ^°  ^^  infant  a  year  old.  The  voice  of  conscience, 
convicting  men  of  sin,  and  calling  to  repentance;  was 


RELIGIOUS  AND   SOCIAL   REFORMERS.  125 

never  heard  in  his  soul.  He  was  so  far  from  being  virtuous  (that 
is,  obedient  to  the  moral  law  from  a  sense  of  duty,  and  against 
natural  inclination)  that  he  was  never  other  than  spontaneously 
good  —  just  as  a  rose  is  spontaneously  sweet.  The  men  of  the 
Golden  Age,  that  poets  sing  of,  were  innocent,  because  sin,  and  its 
companion,  conscience,  did  not  as  yet  exist.  The  men  of  the 
Millennium,  which  optimists  foretell,  will  be  innocent,  because  ages 
of  voluntary  abstention  will  have  so,  deadened  sin  that  its  pres- 
ence in  human  nature  will  be  forgotten.  Such  an  innocent  man 
was  Emerson,  though  he  lived  in  the  midst  of  this  self-conscious, 
conscience-tortured,  duty-ridden  Nineteenth  Century. 
/His  disciples  found  so  much  in  him,  that  they  could  not  under- 
stand why  they  failed  to  find  more ;  while  Emerson,  on  his  side, 
was  at  a  loss  to  guess  what  more  they  could  want,  y  There  was  no 
common  ground  between  the  parties ;  they  played  at  cross-pur- 
poses. A  man  whose  books  had  so  many  vivid  insights  into  hfe, 
must,  they  fancied,  be  deeply  versed  in  spiritual  strug-  jyig^gre  spir- 
gles  :  but  to  their  interrogatories  he  could  make  no  ituai  expe- 
answer.  He  was  always  ready  to  hear  what  they  had  ^®^*^^* 
to  say,  being  to  the  full  as  inquisitive  as  they ;  but  as  to  solving 
their  perplexities  by  arguments,  or  by  reference  to  facts  of  expe- 
rience, it  was  quite  beyond  him.  He  had  not  so  much  as  crossed 
the  boundaries  of  regions  in  which  they  supposed  him  habitually 
to  reside. 

/  It  was  said  Emerson  disdained  to  argue.  But  it  was  not  dis- 
dain ;  it  was  inability.  He  had  no  ratiocinative  faculty.^  What 
truth  he  had  came  to  him  by  intuition  :  he  would  only 
say  of  it,  ''  I  feel  it  to  be  true."  He  cared  nothing  f^g^faculty' 
for  consistency.  He  might  regard  as  interesting  the 
fact  that  two  or  more  of  his  statements  conflicted;  but  he 
declined  to  revise  them.  They  must  all  alike  be  true,  despite 
appearances.  Logical  connection  was  another  thing  he  failed  to 
appreciate.  His  essays  might  be  read  either  forwards  or  back- 
wards, and  their  titles  did  not  certify  to  their  contents.  No 
matter :  Emerson  would  only  smile  and  remark  that  that  was 
his  way  of  writing. 


126  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

The  truth  was  Emerson  spent  his  life  in  saying,  in  various  ways 
and  to  diverse  purposes,  only  one  thing.  He  had  had  a  revela- 
tion, or  an  intuition,  of  what  creation  meant ;  and  he  proffered 
that  in  response  to  all  demands  made  upon  him.  As  the  sky,  to 
our  investigating  gaze,  replies  with  star  after  star,  and 
Se  eospel  ^^^^  nothing  but  stars,  all  practically  repetitions  of  one 
another,  so  in  any  one  of  Emerson's  essays  intelli- 
gently read  may  be  found  the  germs  of  hi*. whole  philosophy: 
nor  is  there  anything  else  to  find  there.  They  would  appear  even 
less  conventional  than  they  do  had  not  their  author,  supposing 
himself  to  be  like  other  people,  tried  to  conduct  his  external 
affairs  as  they  did  theirs. 

His  deficiencies  were  more  interesting  and  instructive  than  his 
qualities.  He  never  showed  marked  intellectual  power ;  he  lived 
and  wrote  by  a  sort  of  divine  instinct.  The  elaborate  and  carefully 
oiled  intellectual  machinery,  by  dint  of  which  we  make  our  investi- 
gations and  reach  our  conclusions,  was  so  much  waste  lumber  to 
him  :  he  found  what  he  sought  (if  he  found  it  at  all)  immediately  : 
A  spontane-  ^^  opened  his  eyes,  and  it  was  before  him.  He  found 
ous  man  and  no  value  in  church  or  ritual,  because  religious  trust 
writer.  came  to  him  spontaneously.      He    saw   no   sense    in 

governments,  because  he  himself  went  right  involuntarily.  He 
would  not  go  all  lengths  with  the  abolitionists,  because  he  per- 
ceived that  slavery  was  not  in  fetters,  but  in  feeling :  the  way  to 
emancipate  the  slave  was  to  make  him  comprehend  his  dignity 
and  freedom  as  a  human  being :  the  real  slaves  in  the  South,  in 
his  view,  were  the  slave-holders.  He  had  misgivings  about  patri- 
otism :  true  patriotism  should  consist  in  the  ambition  to  contribute 
to  other  nations  as  many  instead  of  as  few  as  possible  of  our  own 
advantages.  In  a  word,  Emerson's  alien  constitution  renders  him 
one  of  the  most  invaluable  of  critics,  as  a  man  from  another 
planet  might  be. 

But  the  moment  he  began  to  go  behind  his  intuitions  he  got 
into  trouble.  For  him  to  attempt  to  draw  an  inference  was  fatal. 
Unless  he  talked  in  the  style  of  the  Delphic  oracle,  he  was  apt  to 
talk  nonsense.     His  descriptions  of  persons  or  things  were  felici- 


RELIGIOUS  AND  SOCIAL  REFORMERS.  127 

tous,  but  in  criticising  them  he  was  apt  to  err.  His  essay  on 
"  Farming,"  for  example,  is  admirable  so  far  as  its  abstract  state- 
ments are  concerned,  but  affords  no  help  or  encouragement  to 
practical  farmers.  In  treating  of  any  subject,  his  tone  and  his 
conclusions  are  always  cheerful  and  inspiriting ;  but  when  we  turn 
from  his  books  to  real  life,  we  discover  that  he  has  never  entered 
into  realities ;  that  he  has  exaggerated  man's  actual  powers,  and 
underrated  his  difficulties.  Emerson's  works  are  like  a  soap- 
bubble  ;  they  mirror  and  enhance  all  beauty,  and  delight  and 
educate  the  aesthetic  sense ;  but  they  can  be  applied  to  no  con- 
cretely useful  purpose.  At  the  contact  of  mortal  fingers  they 
vanish.  His  writings  have  therefore  always  been  more  applauded 
by  young  than  by  old  persons.  The  former,  looking  forward  to 
life,  are  apt  to  believe  all  things  possible  :  the  latter,  knqwing  life, 
know  the  limitations  of  personal  effort.  Nevertheless,  Emerson  is 
good  reading  for  the  young.  Like  music,  he  uplifts  the  mind,  and 
is  consolatory.  His  sayings  are  true  for  the  soul,  though  not  for 
the  body  ;  and  the  issues  he  contemplates  may  ultimately  arrive. 

He  was  one  of  the  most  unself-conscious  of  men.  This  was  due 
to  his  inexperience  of  inward  struggle,  which  makes  a  man 
acquainted  with  himself.  In  the  sense  of  being  separate  and 
unique  in  his  mental  proportions,  he  was  and  appeared  intensely 
individual :  but  he  had  no  perception  of  his  own  individuality,  and 
could  not  talk  or  write  or  think  about  himself :  he  always  looked 
outward,  and  led  his  interlocutor  away  from  the  personal  to  the 
universal.  He  was  not,  in  fact,  able  clearly  to  distinguish  between 
men  and  mankind.  He  thought  that  an  individual  could  and 
ought  to  do  the  work  of  the  race  :  that  the  powers  of  all  human 
nature  could  be  concentrated  in  any  one  person.  Speaking  of  the 
communistic  idea,  he  said,  "  A  man  is  weaker  for  every  recruit  to 
his  banner."  He  delighted  in  the  contemplation  of  such  men 
as  Moses,-  Caesar,  Shakespeare,  Napoleon,  Goethe,  because  .their 
power  seemed  to  illustrate  his  theory.  /  He  would  not  allow  that 
Christ  was  more  than  a  man,  because  he  believed  any  man  capa- 
ble of  being  a  Christ.  He  ignored  the  finality  of  individual 
boundary  lines. 


128  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

In  only  one  of  his  books  —  "  English  Traits  "  —  does  Emerson 
attempt  portrayal  of  character.  ;  He  succeeds  just  in  proportion  as 
he  generalizes.  He  gives  a  strong  impression  of  EngUsh  charac- 
teristics as  a  whole,  but  no  lifelike  portrait  of  any  English  person. 
But  "  EngHsh  Traits "  is  the  only  autobiographical 
UsiiTra?S""  fragment  of  Emerson  that  we  possess.  Inadvertently, 
his  preoccupation  with  others  reveals  himself.  He 
reports  their  answers  to  his  questions ;  and  both  the  answers  and 
the  questions  shape  out  for  us  the  questioner.  We  infer  a  man 
from  the  sum  of  his  likes  and  dislikes ;  and,  more  compendiously 
than  elsewhere,  Emerson's  likes  and  dislikes  are  betrayed  in 
"  English  Traits." 

His  analysis  of  nature  is,  of  course,  his  main  achievement :  it 
forms  the  expHcit  subject  of  his  first  published  book,  and  it  is  the 
background  of  all  of  them.  It  contains  much  of  manifest  truth, 
and  fails  only  when  the  author  tries  to  account  for  and  correct  his 
own  insights.  He  shows  the  influence  of  both  Plato  and  Sweden- 
Hismain  t)org,  and  when  their  philosophies  approach  his,  he 
achieve-  becomes  obscure  and  uncertain.  His  desire  in  this 
ment.  ^^.^^  essay  to  be  complete  led  him  astray.     He  trusted 

to  the  feeblest  part  of  his  intellect,  and  it  betrayed  him.  His 
readers,  presuming  that  one  who  could  write  truth  so  translucent, 
could  write  nothing  else,  endeavored  to  swallow  the  book  whole, 
and  supposed  it  must  be  their  own  incapacity,  and  not  Emer- 
son's, that  stood  in  their  way.  They  did  not  understand  his  whole 
meaning,  because  he  himself  did  not.  And  he  could  not  set 
them  right,  because  he  did  not  know  where  he  was  wrong.  His 
philosophy  may  be  briefly  outUned  as  follows  :  — 

He  begins  by  observing  that  it  is  a  sufficient  account  of  that 
appearance  we  call  the  world,  that  God  desires  to  instruct  man's 
Outline  mind.     Nature,  in  the  largest  sense,  is  to  be  regarded 

of  Ms  as  the  sum  of  everything  that  is  not  man's  soul ;  but 

philosophy.     Qf  ^j^^^  gQ^i  -^  .g  ^j^g  symbol.^  The   material,  visible 

universe  is  the  terminus  or  continent  of  the  spiritual  and  invisible 
sphere  :  it  is  the  basis  of  our  speech,  and  the  means  of  our  disci- 
pline.     Its  various  parts   and   forms  are    incarnatipns    of  God's 


RELIGIOUS  AND  SOCIAL  REFORMERS.  129 

infinite  ideas  or  affections.  As  man  rises  in  intelligence,  his 
thought  turns  the  raw  material  of  nature's  kingdoms  into  uses, 
and  thus  the  world  gradually  becomes  realized  human  will.  -  Man 
is  the  form  of  the  highest  principle  in  nature  :  all  other  forms  are 
degradations  of  his. 

Since  the  whole  effect  upon  man  of  nature  is  a  disciplinary 
one,  we  reach  the  conclusion  that  it  has  no  actual  or  unrelated 
existence.  Things  are  not  really  spread  out  in  space ;  they  are 
painted  on  the  firmament  of  the  soul.  In  confirmation  of  this 
truth,  we  note  that  the  best  moments  of  life  are  those  awakenings 
of  the  higher  powers,  when,  as  in  a  vision,  we  behold  God,  and 
nature  reverently  retires  from  consciousness. 

In  this  rapt  state,  to  which  all  men  are  capable  of  attaining,  by 
piety  or  by  passion,  the  soul  sees  the  world  as  one  vast  picture 
painted  by  God  on  the  instant  eternity :  the  distinction  of  past 
and  present,  of  time  and  space,  ceases  to  appear.  We  thus  recog- 
nize the  universe  as  a  veil  or  illusion,  embodying  eternal  ideas. 
But  idealism,  while  accounting  for  nature  on  other  than  mechanical 
and  chemical  principles,  is  but  a  negative  philosophy ;  it  denies 
matter,  but  does  not  affirm  God  :  it  is  at  best  but  an  introduction 
to  such  affirmation.  But  we  now  observe  that  individuality  begins 
when  nature  has  ascended  to  mind,  —  and  the  movement  of 
nature  is  ever  in  the  direction  of  intelligence.  Evolution  of  the 
fittest,  therefore,  points  to  spiritual  man  as  being  the  final  cause 
of  nature.  The  universe  is  not  alien  to  man,  but  the  sensible 
shadow  or  projection  of  a  Being  having  the  form  of  man  —  that  is, 
of  God.  God  does  not  build  up  nature  around  us,  but  puts  it  out 
through  us  ;  or  we  may  say  that  man,  having  by  his  creation  access 
to  the  mind  of  the  Creator,  is  himself  the  creator  of  the  finite. 

Here,  however,  arises  a  difficulty.  The  world  is  full  of  ugly, 
evil  and  harmful  things  :  how  came  they  there  if  man,  the  cause 
of  the  finite,  is  but  the  channel  through  which  the  Infinite  God 
works?  Emerson  accounts  for  it  on  a  theory  of  degradation. 
Man  has  deteriorated,  or  lapsed,  from  his  former  innocent  and 
godlike  state.  We  are  become  strangers  in  nature  and  aliens 
from  God.     Man  is  a  god  in  ruins  —  the  dwarf  of  himself.     He  is 


130  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

subjected  to  death,  which  prevents  him  from  becoming  too  much 
confirmed  in  his  degenerate  ways,  and  to  birth,  which  enables  him 
to  start  afresh  :  infancy  being  a  sort  of  perpetual  Messiah.  The 
universe  still  fits  him,  but  colossally ;  he  now  timidly  adores  the 
work  which  aforetime  he  produced.  Yet,  occasionally,  a  man 
appears  able  once  more  to  act  on  nature  with  his  whole  force  — 
to  fill  it  and  command  it :  and  through  such  a  man  God  goes  forth 
into  the  world  anew.  But,  for  the  most  of  us,  the  universe  lies  a 
heterogeneous  and  uncomprehended  ruin,  because  man  has  lost 
his  intuitions,  and  is  disunited  with  himself. 

Such  is  the  gist  of  Emerson's  interpretation  of  Creation.  It 
fails  in  two  essential  points.  But  this  is  not  the  place  to  analyze 
his  analysis. 

Emerson's  poetry  has  the  same  aim  and  motive  as  his  prose ; 
and  when  he  chooses  a  subject  sublime  enough  to  match  his  gen- 
ius, the  result  is  incomparably  the  loftiest  and  profoundest  poetry 
produced  in  this  country.  The  poet  and  the  philosopher  are  at 
one  in  him  :  the  one  not  less  than  the  other  "  postpones  the  ap- 
parent order  and  relation  of  things  to  the  empire  of  thought " ; 
he  "invests  stones  and  dust  with  humanity,  and 
makes  them  the  words  of  reason  " ;  and  at  this  level 
of  inspiration,  "  the  memory  carries  centuries  of  observation  in  a 
single  formula."  But  Emerson  the  poet  is  Emerson  the  phil- 
osopher transfigured.  Here  his  strength  is  at  its  maximum, 
and  his  weakness  seldom  appears.  The  reading  of  some  of 
his  poems  produces  a  sensation  almost  painful  —  the  sensation 
of  exquisite  spiritual  pleasure  carried  to  the  farthest  point.  Such 
poems  must  be  read  in  high  moods  only,  and  a  Httle  at  a  time  : 
there  is  a  holy  brightness  and  beauty  in  them.  Both  in  sub- 
ject and  in  style  they  stand  apart.  They  express  the  great 
elementary  ideas ;  the  forms  of  outward  nature  (as  he  says  in 
the  "Sphinx")  "fade  in  the  hght  of  their  meaning  sublime." 
The  series  of  poems  on  Love  —  "To  Rhea,"  "  Give  all  to  Love," 
"Initial,  Daemonic,  and  Celestial  Love,"  and  others  —  touch 
the  heights  and  depths  of  the  mighty  topic ;  they  recall  no 
other  poet,  and  really  leave  little  for  any  other  poet  of  love  to 


RELIGIOUS  AND   SOCIAL  REFORMERS.  131 

do.  The  philosophic  or  mystic  poems,  such  as  "The  Sphinx," 
"Brahma,"  "Uriel,"  "Guy,"  "Forerunners,"  are  concise  and 
masterly  statements,  and  often  the  purest  poetry;  but  they  are 
less  successful  than  the  love  poems,  and,  considering  the  real  sim- 
phcity  of  the  principles  they  discuss,  have  given  readers  unneces- 
sary perplexity.  Obscurity  in  poetry  is  a  fault;  there  may  be 
meaning  underneath  meaning,  as  in  nature,  but  each  reader  should 
be  able  to  see  at  once  the  meaning  correspondent  to  his  mental 
scope.  The  purport  of  "The  Sphinx"  is  to  explain  the  origin  ot 
evil,  which,  we  are  told,  is  due  to  man's  passionate  yearning  for 
good.  Happiness  can  dwell  only  in  the  perception  that  the  per- 
fect happiness  must  ever  be  unattainable./  The  true  lover  at  last 
feels  that  he  cannot  endure  to  be  loved  for  what  he  is,  but  only 
for  what  he  can  never  be.^The  only  real  repose  is  in  unresting 
progress,  for  which  the  restraints  of  space  and  time  afford  an  im- 
petus. Sin,  by  awakening  remorse,  creates  ineffable  peace  —  the 
recognition  of  Divine  forgiveness. 

In  "  Uriel "  a  similar  view  of  evil  is  taken  :  evil  is  the  transition 
from  earth  to  heaven.  The  consequences  of  the  evil  deed  return 
inevitably  upon  the  doer,  and  he  is  purified  and  uplifted  by  this 
punishment.  "Brahma"  is  simply  a  terse  metrical  version  of  the 
Oriental  paradoxes  concerning  the  Deity ;  the  aspect  which  the 
Infinite  inevitably  assumes  to  the  finite.  "  Guy  "  and  "  Mithri- 
dates "  are  pictures  of  man  restored  to  sympathy  with  and  do- 
minion over  nature.  "  Forerunners "  tells  of  the  ideals  of  life 
which  we  never  can  realize,  but  which,  by  stimulating  to  effort, 
make  life  alive. 

A  number  of  Emerson's  poems  treat,  in  a  noble  style,  of  the 
visible  world  and  of  the  spiritual  meaning  of  scientific  achieve- 
ments. Such  are  "  Hamatreya,"  "  Woodnotes,"  "  Monadnoc," 
"  Merlin."  Here  he  leads  the  way  to  the  poetry  of  the  future, 
which  must  regard  all  facts  as  metaphors  of  supersensuous  truth. 
Finally,  there  are  poems  whose  "  beauty  is  their  own  excuse  for 
being,"  such  as  "  Rhodora,"  "  Forbearance,"  "  Painting  and 
Sculpture,"  "The  Humble-Bee,"  "Good-Bye"  and  the  Concord 
"Hymn.". 


132  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Emerson  pays  little  regard  to  metre  or  conventional  form  in  his 
verse.  When  the  theme  is  large  enough,  the  poet,  as  he  remarks 
in  "  Merlin,"  may  "  mount  to  Paradise  by  the  stairway  of  surprise." 

Nevertheless,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  metre  and 
defects!  symmetry  can,  save  very   exceptionally,  properly  be 

neglected  :  and  it  is  evident  that  Emerson's  remiss- 
ness, is  often  due  to  a  defect  of  ability.  Indeed,  he  has  admitted 
as  much,  and  has  intimated  that  his  poetic  product  would  have 
been  more  copious  than  it  is,  had  his  faculty  in  this  direction  been 
greater.  Meanwhile,  his  poems,  even  in  this  respect,  are  a  welcome 
relief  from  the  flawless  emptiness  of  most  contemporary  verse. 

Upon  the  whole,  Emerson  stands  as  one  of  the  few  great  origi- 
nal forces  in  literature.  Some  of  his  reputation  doubtless  results 
A  great  i'^ova   the    fact   that   comparatively   few  have    under- 

original  stood  him  :  for  there  is  a  large  class  of  persons  who 

force.  I'j^g  ^Q  claim  credit  for  seeing  through  mill-stones. 

But  his  true  fame  is  likely  to  increase  as  time  passes :  as  man- 
kind approaches  the  level  on  which  he  stands,  his  influence  will 
broaden,  and  be  more  discriminatingly  recognized. 

Selections  and  Studies. 

THE   SPHINX. 

The  Sphinx  is  drowsy. 

Her  wings  are  furled  : 
Her  ear  is  heavy. 

She  broods  on  the  world. 
"Who'll  tell  me  my  secret. 

The  ages  have  kept?  — 
I  awaited  the  seer 

While  they  slumbered  and  slept :  — 

"The  fate  of  the  man-child, 

The  meaning  of  man ; 
Known  fruit  of  the  unknown ; 

Daedalian  plan; 


RELIGIOUS  AND  SOCIAL  REFORMERS.  133 

Out  of  sleeping  a  waking, 

Out  of  waking  a  sleep ; 
Life  death  overtaking; 

Deep  underneath  deep? 

"  Erect  as  a  sunbeam, 

Upspringeth  the  palm ; 
The  elephant  browses. 

Undaunted  and  calm ; 
In  beautiful  motion 

The  thrush  plies  his  wings ; 
Kind  leaves  of  his  covert, 

Your  silence  he  sings. 

"The  waves,  unashamed, 

In  difference  sweet, 
Play  glad  with  the  breezes, 

Old  playfellows  meet ; 
The  journeying  atoms, 

Primordial  wholes. 
Firmly  draw,  firmly  drive, 

By  their  animate  poles. 

"Sea,  earth,  air,  sound,  silence. 

Plant,  quadruped,  bird, 
By  one  music  enchanted, 

One  deity  stirred, — 
Each  the  other  adorning, 

Accompany  still ; 
Night  veileth  the  morning. 

The  vapor  the  hill. 

"The  babe  by  its  mother 

Lies  bathed  in  joy ; 
Glide  its  hours  uncounted, — 

The  sun  is  its  toy ; 


134  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Shines  the  peace  of  all  being, 
Without  cloud,  in  its  eyes  ; 

And  the  sum  of  the  world 
In  soft  miniature  lies. 

"But  man  crouches  and  blushes. 

Absconds  and  conceals ; 
He  creepeth  and  peepeth, 

He  palters  and  steals ; 
Infirm,  melancholy, 

Jealous  glancing  around. 
An  oaf,  an  accomplice. 

He  poisons  the  ground. 

"Out  spoke  the  great  mother. 

Beholding  his  fear;  — 
At  the  sound  of  her  accents 

Cold  shuddered  the  sphere  :  — 
*Who  has  drugged  my  boy's  cup? 

Who  has  mixed  my  boy's  bread? 
Who,  with  sadness  and  madness, 

Has  turned  my  child's  head?'"^ 

I  heard  a  poet  answer 

Aloud  and  cheerfully, 
"  Say  on,  sweet  Sphinx  !  thy  dirges 

Are  pleasant  songs  to  me. 
Deep  love  lieth  under 

These  pictures  of  time ; 
They  fade  in  the  light  of 

Their  meaning  sublime. 

"The  fiend  that  man  harries 

Is  love  of  the  Best; 
Yawns  the  pit  of  the  Dragon, 

Lit  by  rays  from  the  Blest. 


RELIGIOUS  AND   SOCIAL   REFORMERS.  135 

The  Lethe  of  Nature 

Can't  trance  him  again, 
Whose  soul  sees  the  perfect, 

Which  his  eyes  seek  in  vain. 

"To  vision  profounder, 

Man's  spirit  must  dive ; 
His  aye-rolUng  orb 

At  no  goal  will  arrive ; 
The  heavens  that  now  draw  him 

With  sweetness  untold, 
Once  found,  —  for  new  heavens 

He  spurneth  the  old. 

"  Pride  ruined  the  angels, 

Their  shame  them  restores; 
Lurks  the  joy  that  is  sweetest 

In  stings  of  remorse. 
Have  I  a  lover 

Who  is  noble  and  free?  — 
I  would  he  were  nobler 

Than  to  love  me. 

"Eterne  alternation 

Now  follows,  now  flies ; 
And  under  pain,  pleasure, — 

Under  pleasure,  pain  lies. 
Love  works  at  the  centre, 

Heart-heaving  alway; 
Forth  speed  the  strong  pulses 

To  the  borders  of  day. 

"  Dull  Sphinx,  Jove  keep  thy  five  wits ; 

Thy  sight  is  growing  blear ; 
Rue,  myrrh  and  cummin  for  the  Sphinx, 

Her  muddy  eyes  to  clear  ! " 


13,6  AMERICAN  LITER  A  TURE. 

The  old  Sphinx  bit  her  thick  hp,  — 
Said,  "Who  taught  thee  me  to  name? 

I  am  thy  spirit,  yoke-fellow, 
Of  thine  eye  I  am  eyebeam. 

"Thou  art  the  unanswered  question; 

Couldst  see  thy  proper  eye, 
Alway  it  asketh,  asketh ; 

And  each  answer  is  a  lie. 
So  take  thy  quest  through  nature. 

It  through  thousand  natures  ply : 
Ask  on,  thou  clothed  eternity; 

Time  is  the  false  reply." 

Uprose  the  merry  Sphinx, 

And  crouched  no  more  in  stone ; 
She  melted  into  purple  cloud. 

She  silvered  in  the  moon; 
She  spired  into  a  yellow  flame; 

She  flowered  in  blossoms  red ; 
She  flowed  into  a  foaming  wave ; 

She  stood  Monadnoc's  head. 

Through  a  thousand  voices 

Spoke  the  universal  dame ; 
"Who  telleth  one  of  my  meanings. 

Is  master  of  all  I  am." 

Write  the  thought  of  the  poem  in  your  own  language.  If  you 
do  this  carefully,  you  will  answer  many  of  the  questions  that  follow. 
What  is  the  significance  of  the  Sphinx?  What  riddle  does  she  ask? 
What  contrast  is  drawn  between  inanimate  nature  and  man?  What 
question  does  the  poet  answer?  What  answer  does  he  give? 
What  is  the  reply  of  the  Sphinx?  Explain  lines  13-16.  Explain 
lines  29  and  30.  Give  a  celebrated  passage  from  Alexander  Pope 
corresponding  to  the  thought  of  the  eleventh  stanza.     Have  you 


RELIGIOUS, AND   SOCIAL  REFORMERS.  137 

come  across  the  same  thought  elsewhere  in  your  reading?  Give 
the  meaning  of  Dcedalian,  Lethe,  primordial,  oaf,  dir-ges,  harries, 
eterne.  Select  the  strongest  figure.  Select  a  passage.  Why  do 
you  prefer  the  one  you  have  selected  ? 

THE   HUMBLE-BEE. 

Burley,  dozing  humble-bee, 
Where  thou  art  is  clime  for  me. 
Let  them  sail  for  Porto  Rique, 
Far-off  heats  through  seas  to  seek ; 
I  will  follow  thee  alone, 
Thou  animated  torrid-zone  ! 
Zigzag  steerer,  desert  cheerer, 
Let  me  chase  thy  waving  lines ; 
Keep  me  nearer,  me  thy  hearer, 
Singing  over  shrubs  and  vines. 

Insect  lover  of  the  sun, 
Joy  of  thy  dominion  ! 
Sailor  of  the  atmosphere ; 
Swimmer  through  the  waves  of  air; 
Voyager  of  light  and  noon ; 
Epicurean  of  June ; 
Wait,  I  prithee,  till  I  come 
Within  earshot  of  thy  hum,  — 
All  without  is  martyrdom. 

When  the  south  wind,  in  May  days. 
With  a  net  of  shining  haze 
Silvers  the  horizon  wall. 
And  with  softness  touching  all. 
Tints  the  human  countenance 
With  a  color  of  romance. 
And  infusing  subtle  heats. 
Turns  the  sod  to  violets, 


138  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Thou,  in  sunny  solitudes, 
Rover  of  the  underwoods, 
The  green  silence  doth  displace 
With  thy  mellow,  breezy  bass. 

Hot  midsummer's  petted  crone. 
Sweet  to  me  thy  drowsy  tone 
Tells  of  countless  sunny  hours, 
Long  days,  and  solid  banks  of  flowers ; 
Of  gulfs  of  sweetness  without  bound 
In  Indian  wildernesses  found ; 
Of  Syrian  peace,  immortal  leisure, 
Firmest  cheer,  and  bird-hke  pleasure. 

Aught  unsavory  or  unclean 
Hath  my  insect  never  seen; 
But  violets  and  bilberry  bells, 
Maple-sap  and  daffbdels, 
Grass  with  green  flag  half-mast  high, 
Succory  to  match  the  sky. 
Columbine  with  horn  of  honey, 
Scented  fern,  and  agrimony. 
Clover,  catchfly,  adder's-tongue 
And  brier-roses,  dwelt  among ; 
All  beside  was  unknown  waste. 
All  was  picture  as  he  passed. 

Wiser  far  than  human  seer, 
Yellow-breeched  philosopher  ! 
Seeing  only  what  is  fair. 
Sipping  only  what  is  sweet. 
Thou  dost  mock  at  fate  and  care, 
Leave  the  chaff,  and  take  the  wheat. 
When  the  fierce  northwestern  blast 
Cools  sea  and  land  so  far  and  fast. 
Thou  already  slumberest  deep ; 


RELIGIOUS  AND   SOCIAL   REFORMERS.  139 

Woe  and  want  thou  canst  outsleep ; 
Want  and  woe,  which  torture  us, 
Thy  sleep  makes  ridiculous. 

In  what  ways  does  the  poet  describe  the  hum  of  the  bee  ?  How 
does  he  describe  its  flight  ?  Why  does  he  speak  of  him  as  "  Thou 
animated  torrid-zone  "?  What  kind  of  a  hfe  does  the  bee  lead? 
What  kind  of  a  philosopher  does  the  poet  make  of  the  bee  ? 

THE   SNOW-STORM. 

Announced  by  all  the  trumpets  of  the  sky, 
Arrives  the  snow,  and,  driving  o'er  the  fields, 
Seems  nowhere  to  alight :   the  whited  air 
Hides  hills  and  woods,  the  river,  and  the  heaven. 
And  veils  the  farm-house  at  the  garden's  end. 
The  sled  and  traveller  stopped,  the  courier's  feet 
Delayed,  all  friends  shut  out,  the  housemates  sit 
Around  the  radiant  fireplace,  enclosed 
In  a  tumultuous  privacy  of  storm. 

Come  see  the  north  wind's  masonry. 
Out  of  an  unseen  quarry  evermore 
Furnished  with  tile,  the  fierce  artificer 
Curves  his  white  bastions  with  projected  roof 
Round  every  windward  stake,  or  tree,  or  door. 
Speeding,  the  myriad- handed,  his  wild  work 
So  fanciful,  so  savage,  nought  cares  he 
For  number  or  proportion.     Mockingly, 
On  coop  or  kennel  he  hangs  Parian  wreaths; 
A  swan-like  form  invests  the  hidden  thorn ; 
Fills  up  the  farmer's  lane  from  wall  to  wall, 
Maugre  the  farmer's  sighs;   and  at  the  gate 
A  tapering  turret  overtops  the  work. 
And  when  his  hours  are  numbered,  and  the  world 
Is  all  his  own,  retiring,  as  he  were  not. 
Leaves,  when  the  sun  appears,  astonished  Art 


140  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

To  mimic  in  slow  structures,  stone  by  stone, 
Built  in  an  age,  the  mad  wind's  night-work, 
The  frolic  architecture  of  the  snow. 

Compare  it  with  Bryant's  "The  First  Snow-Shower,"  with 
Whittier's  " Snow- Bound,"  Lowell's  winter  in  "The  Vision  of 
Sir  Launfal." 

-/' 

CONCORD    HYMN: 

SUNG   AT  THE   COMPLETION    OF  THE   BATTLE   MONUMENT,  APRIL    I9,    1 836. 

By  the  rude  bridge  that  arched  the  flood, 

Their  flag  to  April's  breeze  unfurled, 
Here  once  the  embattled  farmers  stood. 

And  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the  world. 

The  foe  long  since  in  silence  slept ; 

Alike  the  conqueror  silent  sleeps ; 
And  Time  the  ruined  bridge  has  swept 

Down  the  dark  stream  which  seaward  creeps. 

On  this  green  bank,  by  this  soft  stream. 

We  set  to-day  a  votive  stone ; 
That  memory  may  their  deed  redeem. 

When,  like  our  sires,  our  sons  are  gone. 

Spirit,  that  made  those  heroes  dare 

To  die,  and  leave  their  children  free. 
Bid  Time  and  Nature  gently  spare 

The  shaft  we  raise  to  them  and  thee. 

Give  the  history  of  the  event  this  hymn  commemorates.  Select 
the  most  striking  Hnes  in  the  hymn.     Why  are  they  so  significant  ? 

THE  TITMOUSE. 

You  shall  not  be  overbold 
When  you  deal  with  Arctic  cold, 
As  late  I  found  my  lukewarm  blood 
Chilled  wading  in  the  snow-choked  wood. 


RELIGIOUS  AND  SOCIAL  REFORMERS.  141 

How  should  I  fight?  my  foeman  fine 

Has  milUon  arms  to  one  of  mine  : 

East,  west,  for  aid  I  looked  in  vain, 

East,  west,  north,  south,  are  his  domain. 

Miles  off,  three  dangerous  miles,  is  home  ; 

Must  borrow  his  winds  who  there  would  come. 

Up  and  away  for  life  !  be  fleet !  — 

The  frost-king  ties  my  fumbling  feet, 

Sings  in  my  ears,  my  hands  are  stones. 

Curdles  the  blood  to  the  marble  bones. 

Tugs  at  the  heart-strings,  numbs  the  sense, 

And  hems  in  life  with  narrowing  fence. 

Well,  in  this  broad  bed  lie  and  sleep,  — 

The  punctual  stars  will  vigil  keep, — 

Embalmed  by  purifying  cold  ; 

The  winds  shall  sing  their  dead-march  old, 

The  snow  is  no  ignoble  shroud, 

The  moon  thy  mourner,  and  the  cloud. 

Softly,  —  but  this  way  fate  was  pointing, 
'Twas  coming  fast  to  such  anointing. 
When  piped  a  tiny  voice  hard  by, 
Gay  and  polite,  a  cheerful  cry, 
Chic-chicadeedee  !  saucy  note 
Out  of  sound  heart  and  merry  throat. 
As  if  it  said,  "  Good  day,  good  sir  ! 
Fine  afternoon,  old  passenger  ! 
Happy  to  meet  you  in  these  places. 
Where  January  brings  few  faces." 

This  poet,  though  he  live  apart. 
Moved  by  his  hospitable  heart. 
Sped,  when  I  passed  his  sylvan  fort. 
To  do  the  honors  of  his  court. 
As  fits  a  feathered  lord  of  land ; 
Flew  near,  with  soft  wing  grazed  my  hand. 


142  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Hopped  on  the  bough,  then,  darting  low, 
Prints  his  small  impress  on  the  snow, 
Shows  feats  of  his  gymnastic  play. 
Head  downward,  clinging  to  the  spray. 

Here  was  this  atom  in  full  breath, 
Hurling  defiance  at  vast  death ; 
This  scrap  of  valor  just  for  play 
Fronts  the  north-wind  in  waistcoat  gray. 
As  if  to  shame  my  weak  behavior ; 
I  greeted  loud  my  little  savior, 
You  pet !  what  dost  here?  and  what  for? 
In  these  woods,  thy  small  Labrador, 
At  this  pinch,  wee  San  Salvador  ! 
What  fire  burns  in  that  little  chest 
So  frolic,  stout  and  self-possest? 
Henceforth  I  wear  no  stripe  but  thine ; 
Ashes  and  jet  all  hues  outshine. 
Why  are  not  diamonds  black  and  gray. 
To  ape  thy  dare-devil  array  ? 
And  I  affirm,  the  spacious  North 
Exists  to  draw  thy  virtue  forth. 
I  think  no  virtue  goes  with  size ; 
The  reason  of  all  cowardice 
Is,  that  men  are  overgrown, 
And,  to  be  valiant,  must  come  down 
To  the  titmouse  dimension. 

'Tis  good-will  makes  intelligence. 
And  I  began  to  catch  the  sense 
Of  my  bird's  song  :  "  Live  out  of  doors 
In  the  great  woods,  on  prairie  floors. 
I  dine  in  the  sun ;  when  he  sinks  in  the  sea, 
I  too  have  a  hole  in  a  hollow  tree ; 
And  I  hke  less  when  Summer  beats 
With  stifling  beams  on  these  retreats. 
Than  noontide  twilights  which  snow  makes 


RELIGIOUS  AND  SOCIAL  REFORMERS  143 

With  tempest  of  the  bhnding  flakes. 
For  well  the  soul,  if  stout  within, 
Can  arm  impregnably  the  skin  ; 
And  polar  frost  my  frame  defied, 
Made  of  the  air  that  blows  outside." 

With  glad  remembrance  of  my  debt, 
I  homeward  turn ;  farewell,  my  pet ! 
When  here  again  thy  pilgrim  comes. 
He  shall  bring  store  of  seeds  and  crumbs. 
Doubt  not,  so  long  as  earth  has  bread, 
Thou  first  and  foremost  shalt  be  fed  ; 
The  Providence  that  is  most  large 
Takes  hearts  like  thine  in  special  charge, 
Helps  who  for  their  own  need  are  strong. 
And  the  sky  doats  on  cheerful  song. 
Henceforth  I  prize  thy  wiry  chant 
O'er  all  that  mass  and  minster  vaunt ; 
For  men  mis-  hear  thy  call  in  Spring, 
As  'twould  accost  some  frivolous  wing. 
Crying  out  of  the  hazel  copse,  Phe-be  / 
And,  in  winter,  Chic-a-dee-dee  ! 
I  think  old  Caesar  must  have  heard     I 
In  northern  Gaul  my  dauntless  bird. 
And,  echoed  in  some  frosty  wold,         : 
Borrowed  thy  battle-numbers  bold. 
And  I  will  write  our  annals  new. 
And  thank  thee  for  a  better  clew, 
I,  who  dreamed  not  when  I  came  here 
To  find  the  antidote  of  fear, 
Now  hear  thee  say  in  Roman  key, 
Pcean  f   Veni,  vidi,  vici. 

Explain  the  figures  in  5  and  6.  Explain  lines  12-16.  Give 
the  special  features  of  the  grave  in  the  snow.  Repeat  the  pas- 
sages purely  descriptive  of  the  titmouse.  Do  they  seem  to  you  to 
be  accurate  ?     What  philosophy  does  he  connect  with  it  ? 


144  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

General.  —  Read  the  fragments  on  the  poet  and  the  poet's  aim 
in  the  appendix  (edition  of  1888).  Read  "  MerHn  "  and  "The 
Harp."  What  notions  do  you  get  of  his  opinion  of  poetry  in 
general  and  of  his  own  in  particular?  As  you  read  and  study  his 
poetry,  keep  these  opinions  in  mind,  and  see  if  his  practice  con- 
forms to  his  theories.  Look  over  the  titles  of  his  poems,  see  that 
you  know  the  meanings  of  the  words.  What  is  the  subject  of  the 
longest  poem  ?  Is  it  confined  to  simple  description,  and  the  record 
of  observations?  Does  the  author  seem  to  delight  in  nature  for 
its  own  sake?  Read  "  Monadnoc."  Is  the  treatment  descriptive 
or  symbolic?  "Berrying"  suggests  idyllic  treatment;  is  the  sub- 
ject so  treated  here  ?  Do  you  find  simple,  idyllic  treatment  any- 
where ?  What  are  his  patriotic  lyrics  ?  Do  you  find  lyrics  of  the 
affections?  Of  love?  Do  you  find  narrative  poems?  Does  emo- 
tion or  intellect  predominate  in  his  work  ?  Is  he  a  logician  ?  Does 
he  use  argument?  Is  he  a  metaphysician?  Is  he  a  naturalist? 
If  none  of  these  terms  fitly  characterize  him,  why  not,  in  each 
case?  What  term  does?  Is  he  a  reahst  or  an  idealist?  Is  he 
optimistic  or  pessimistic  ?  Do  you  think  he  will  ever  become  a 
popular  poet?  Why?  Is  his  verse  correct  technically?  Is  it 
melodious  and  sensuous  ?     Is  it  poetic  ?     On  what  ground  ? 

Amos  Bronson  Alcott  (i  799-1887)  was  born  in  Connecticut, 
and  his  appetite  for  learning  developed  early.  Unlike  Emerson, 
his  self-consciousness  was  strongly  marked,  and  he  was  always 
readier  to  discourse  than  to  give  ear.  There  was  a  solid  physical 
basis  to  his  nature,  and  his  temperament  inclined  him  in  a  direc- 
tion opposite  to  that  enjoined  by  his  intellectual  and 
EmerswiV  "^oral  faculties.  What  a  phrenologist  would  call  rever- 
ence, ideality  and  self-esteem,  were  all  emphasized  in 
his  character.  He  was  earnest,  solemn  and  persistent :  he  was 
deeply  devoted  to  benevolent  and  philanthropic  schemes,  but  was 
devoid  of  practical  capacity.  His  temper  was  easily  roused,  but 
his  powers  of  self-control  enabled  him  quickly  to  subdue  its  mani- 
festation. There  was  nothing  original  in  Mr.  Alcott :  his  life  was 
almost  totally  barren  of  incident,  and  his  contributions  to  litera- 


RELIGIOUS  AND   SOCIAL   REFORMERS.  145 

ture  are  mostly  of  no  importance.  Like  Margaret  Fuller,  he  had 
some  contemporary  celebrity  as  a  conversationalist,  or  monologuist*: 
he  was  a  figure  in  the  group  that  surrounded  Emerson,  and  he  was 
identified  with  unfamiliar  notions  as  to  the  education  of  children, 
diet  and  the  conduct  of  life.  The  dearth  of  any  traces  of  wit  or 
humor  in  his  composition  (both  of  which  Emerson  possessed  in  a 
marked  degree,  though  of  a  peculiar  kind)  produced,  at  times,  an 
effect  of  stupidity,  not  incompatible  with  strong  intelligence  in  many 
ways.  He  regarded  himself,  and  was  regarded  by  his  friends,  as 
an  example  of  the  moral  virtues,  and  a  pattern  of  what  a  wise  and 
upright  man  should  be.  His  demeanor  was  placid,  confident  and 
kindly,  his  movements  and  bearing  awkward,  his  voice  nasal  but 
strong.     He  owed  much  to  his  environment. 

In  1833,  we  find  him  in  Boston,  diligently  studying  Plato  and 
the  Bible,  and  finding  a  likeness  between  them.  Aristotle  and 
Bacon  were  also  early  masters  of  his  ;  he  was  attacking  philosophy 
on  its  material  side,  and  striving  thereby,  with  Httle  success,  to 
evolve  a  consistent  theory  of  the  universe.  An  impetus  towards 
the  spiritual  was  communicated  to  him  by  Coleridge's  "  Bio- 
graphia  Literaria,"  and  his  acquaintance,  soon  after,  with  Emerson 
and  other  enlightened  persons,  kept  his  face  turned  thenceforward 
in  that  direction.  In  1834,  he  opened  his  "Temple  School"  in 
the  Masonic  Temple  Building  in  Boston.  He  proceeded  upon  a 
new  plan,  one  feature  of  which  is  said  to  have  been  that  of  punish- 
ing refractory  pupils  by  administering  punishment  upon  himself 
in  their  presence.  This  method  seems  not  always  to  have  had 
the  effect  that  was  intended  :  and  the  publication  of  his  "  Con- 
versations on  the  Gospels  "  as  held  in  the  school,  aroused  much 
hostile  criticism  in  the  newspapers  and  elsewhere.  He  was  de- 
fended by  Emerson  in  the  Boston  "Courier,"  but,  in  1837,  at. 
Emerson's  advice,  he  gave  up  the  instruction  of  the  young,  and 
turned  his  attention  to  the  mental  and  moral  improvement  of 
children  of  a  larger  growth. 

"The  Dial,"  a  quarterly  journal,  was  started  in  1840.  It  was 
the  chief  result  of  the  meetings  of  a  club  or  circle  called  "The 
Symposium,"  which  was  formed  in  1836,  and  was  maintained  till 


146  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

1 839.  The  members  of  the  club  —  upon  whom  was  soon  bestowed 
the  nickname  of  "  Transcendentahsts  "  —  were  Emerson,  Chan- 
ning,  Ripley,  Margaret  Fuller,  Theodore  Parker,  Miss 
Ehzabeth  P.  Peabody,  George  Bancroft,  Dr.  Hedge, 
C.  P.  Cranch,  Sam.  G.  Ward,  Alcott  and  several  others.  They  met 
four  times  a  year,  and  discussed  such  topics  as  American  Genius, 
Pantheism,  Mysticism,  Personality.  The  tone  of  the  meetings  seems 
not  to  have  improved,  and  the  club  was  dissolved  by  common  con- 
sent. "The  Dial"  (which  Alcott  had  the  honor  of  naming)  was 
designed  to  be  a  sort  of  perpetuation  in  literary  form  of  the  best 
thoughts  of  the  former  club  members.  Margaret  Fuller  edited  the 
first  two  numbers,  and  Emerson  the  rest  \  the  subscription  was  three 
dollars  a  year,  contributions  were  gratuitous  and  the  magazine 
was  read  only  by  the  contributors.  Each  number  contained  136 
pages,  and  many  of  the  articles  were  in  verse.  Alcott  sent  to  it 
his  "  Orphic  Sayings,"  which  are  not  verse,  but  a  species  of  mys- 
tical epigrams  in  prose,  made  terse  by  assiduous  filing,  and  more 
apt  to  be  obscure  than  profound.  "The  Dial  "  was  discontinued 
in  1843.  All  its  supporters  were  young  people,  Alcott  being  the 
only  one  over  forty. 

Alcott,  at  Mr.  Emerson's  suggestion,  had  moved  to  Concord  in 
1839,  and  was  supporting  himself  by  manual  labor.  In  1842, 
with  money  procured  by  Emerson  and  others,  he  went  to  England, 
to  bring  about  a  union  with  advanced  thinkers  in  that  country. 
But  diplomacy  was  not  among  his  accomplishments ;  moreover, 
he  found  the  English  less  spiritual-minded  than  he  had  antici- 
pated. After  a  quarrel  with  Carlyle,  who,  though  a  prophet  of 
calamity,  was  never  in  sympathy  with  actual  reform,  he  came 
home,  bringing  two  recruits  with  him.  He  established  himself 
•  with  them  at  a  sort  of  model  farm,  called  Fruitlands,  where  he 
practised  theories  of  diet,  eschewing  animal  food,  and  subsisting 
on  fruit  and  such  vegetables  as  grew  above  the  surface  of  the 
earth.  He  remained  a  vegetarian  all  his  life.  He  also  believed 
that  none  but  white  garments  ought  to  be  worn  ;  but  he  afterwards 
consented  to  put  on  a  black  coat,  and  finally  was  content  to  have 
only  his  shirt  white. 


RELIGIOUS  AND   SOCIAL   REFORMERS. 


147 


Alcott  had  not  the  money- making  faculty ;  but  he  was  married, 
and  must  Hve.  His  friends  helped  him  to  establish  "  Conversa- 
tions," and  in  various  ways  contrived  to  keep  him  supplied  with 
the  necessaries  of  life,  as  a  small  return  for  the  abundant  spiritual 
treasures  which  he  was  always  prepared  to  lavish  on  them.  He 
had  a  knack  at  rustic  carpentry,  and  received  commissions  to 
build  summer-houses  and  fences  of  boughs  for  Mr.  Emerson  and 
other  Concord  people.  He  lived  in  Concord  all  his  long  life 
afterwards,  and  his  venerable  face  and  figure  were  a  part  of  the 
town.  At  the  age  of  eighty-five,  he  published  a  little  book  of 
"Sonnets  and  Cansonets  "  —  personal  poems  to  and  about  some 
of  his  many  friends.  The  most  valuable  part  of  his  works  are 
those  comments  and  criticisms,  often  just  and  penetrating,  that 
have  reference  to  Emerson.  The  latter's  lofty  originality  seems 
to  have  sapped  the  life-blood  of  the  feebler,  less  unconven- 
tional spirits  about  him,  or  else,  as  in  the  case  of  Thoreau,  drove 
them,  to  extravagance  in  the  effort  to  maintain  their  independence. 
In  Alcott's  "  Tablets  "  and  "  Concord  Days  "  and  papers  reminis- 
cent of  "The  Dial"  period  may  be  found  interesting  records  —  and 
echoes  —  of  his  great  friend  and  spiritual  master. 


Henry  David  Thoreau  (i8i 7-1862)  had  the  initial  distinction 

of  being  born  in  Concord,  though  that 
village  was  then  nothing  but  a  pretty  ham 
let,  lying  between  level  meadows  and  low 
hills,  on  the  banks  of  a  loitering  stream. 
Here,  it  is  true,  the  first  blood  of  the 
Revolution  had  been  shed,  more  than 
forty  years  before;  but  that  fact  might 
have  lapsed  into  oblivion  had  not  Emer- 
son's "  Hymn,"  recited  on  the  site  of  the 
conflict,  in  1836,  put  a  Hfe  into  the  event 
that  is  still  vigorous. 

Thoreau  was,  remotely,  of  French  ex- 
traction, and  he  had  a  swarthy,  Norman 

cast    of   features  :     but    his    ancestors    had  Henry  David  Thoreau. 


148  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

become  English  before  they  became  American,  and  the  genuine 
New  England  farmer  blood  beat  in  his  veins.  Personally,  he  was 
odd,  in  all  senses  of  the  term.  He  was  bilious  in  constitution  and 
in  temper,  with  a  disposition  somewhat  prone  to  suspicion  and  jeal- 
ousy, and  defiant,  rather  than  truly  independent,  in  spirit.  He  had 
a  searching,  watchful,  unconciliating  eye,  a  long,  stealthy  tread  and 
an  alert  but  not  graceful  figure.  His  heart  was  neither  warm  nor 
large,  and  he  certainly  did  not  share  that  "  enthusiasm 
recluse.  ^^^  humanity  "  which  was  the  fashionable  profession  in 

his  day.  His  habits  were  solitary  and  unsocial ;  yet 
secretly  he  was  highly  sensitive  to  the  opinion  of  his  fellow-men, 
and  would  perhaps  have  mingled  more  freely  with  them,  but 
for  a  perception  that  there  was  no  vehement  demand  for  his 
company.  The  art  of  pleasing  was  not  innate  in  him,  and  he 
was  too  proud  to  cultivate  it.  Rather  than  have  it  appear  that 
society  could  do  without  him,  he  resolved  to  make  haste  and 
banish  society ;  for  a  couple  of  years  he  actually  lived  alone  in 
a  hut  built  by  himself,  on  the  shores  of  Walden  Pond,  near 
Concord:  all  his  life  he  kept  out  of  people's  way,  —  you  were 
more  apt  to  see  his  disappearing  coat-tails  than  his  face, — 
and  he  was  most  at  ease  in  his  walks  through  the  woods  and 
fields  surrounding  Concord,  and  on  his  exploring  tramps  to  Can- 
ada, to  Maine,  to  Cape  Cod  and  along  the  Merrimac  River. 
Thus  thrown  back  upon  himself,  his  egotism  and  self-consciousness 
could  not  but  become  emphasized  :  and  since  he  might  not  shine 
in  society,  he  determined  to  be  king  in  the  wilderness.  He  as- 
serted, and  perhaps  brought  himself  to  beheve,  that  all  that  was 
worthy  in  this  world  lay  within  the  compass  of  a  walk  from  his 
own  doorstep ;  and  we  might  add  that  he  came  to  regard  the 
owner  of  that  doorstep  as  the  centre  of  all  this  world's  worth. 
Existing  in  space,  as  it  were,  with  nothing  to  measure  himself  by, 
he  seemed  to  himself  colossal. 

Had  Thoreau  been  nothing  more  than  lias  been  indicated,  the 
world  would  not  have  been  likely  to  hear  of  him.  But  there  was 
more  in  him  than  this,  and  more  still  was  added  by  education 
and  by  the  influence  of  certain  of  his.  contemporaries,  and  of  their 


RELIGIOUS  AND   SOCIAL  REFORMERS,  149 

opinions.  His  father  was  able  to  send  him  to  school  and  to 
Harvard  College  :  after  graduating  he  taught  school,  and  finally 
learned  surveying.  This  trade,  and  a  little  money  that  he  had, 
sufficed  to  support  one  of  habits  so  economical  as  his.  He  was 
endowed  with  some  imagination,  and  it  pardy  found  expression  in 
poetry  —  moralized  descriptions  of  nature,  a  little  rough  in  form, 
and  anything  but  ardent  in  feeling,  but  individual  and  masculine. 
Several  of  these  poems,  written  soon  after  Thoreau  left  college, 
were  published  in  "  The  Dial,"  and  also  some  essays  on  the  natural 
history  of  Massachusetts.  Emerson  was  the  medium 
of  this  early  literary  recognition,  and  his  contact  with  ^^^1 
the  odd  and  whimsical  young  man  who  had  so  few 
intimates  inevitably  had  an  effect  upon  Thoreau's  develop- 
ment, both  literary  and  philosophical.  He  did  not  want  to 
imitate  anybody,  and  he  did  his  best  to  digest  Emerson,  so 
that  his  own  work  and  cast  of  thought  should  not  betray  the 
contagion.  Measurably,  but  not  completely,  he  succeeded. 
His  writings  are  thinly  overspread  with  Thoreau,  but  here  and 
there  the  coating  has  worn  off,  and  the  Emersonian  basis  shows 
through.  It  is  quite  open  to  question  whether  this  has  not 
done  the  writings  more  harm  than  good.  The  nectar  and  am- 
brosia of  Emerson  does  not  assimilate  kindly  with  Thoreau's  harsh 
and  rather  acrid  substance.  Thoreau  was  a  humorist,  —  in  the 
old,  not  in  the  new  sense,  —  and  it  is  indispensable  to  the  pros- 
perity of  the  humorist  that  he  be  himself.  He  was  no  optimist, 
and  he  cared  nothing  for  the  welfare  of  mankind,  or  the  progress  of 
civilization.  When,  therefore,  he  ornaments  his  records  of  the  facts 
of  nature  with  interpretations  of  their  moral  and  spiritual  signif- 
icance, we  feel  a  sense  of  incongruity.  The  interpretations  have 
not  the  air  of  developing  spontaneously  from  the  interior  of  the 
writer's  thought ;  they  are  deliberately  fitted  on  from  the  outside, 
and  the  marks  of  juncture  smoothed  off.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
did  come  naturally  to  Thoreau  to  fall  into  a  vein  of  talking  about 
natural  objects  —  plants,  animals  and  meteorology  —  as  if  they 
were  human  creatures,  and  to  credit  them  with  likes,  disHkes, 
thoughts  and  personalities.     When  he  does  this,  he  is  entertaining 


150  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

and  attractive,  and  it  is  a  pity  he  did  not  develop  a  vein  so  proper 
to  him,  rather  than  snatch  with  his  earthly  hands  at  the  Empyrean. 

His  poems  of  observation  were  good,  and,  like  a  pointer-dog, 
he  could  fix  his  gaze  upon  an  object  for  a  long  time  at  a  stretch. 
Nevertheless,  he  cannot  be  considered  an  especially  objective 
writer.  He  reverts  continually  to  himself,  and  exam- 
first  study.  ^^^^  ^^^  ^^^^  attitude  and  impressions  in  regard  to 
the  thing  even  more  solicitously  than  the  thing  itself. 
The  poet  in  him  helps  the  naturalist,  but  the  philosopher  sophisti- 
cates him.  Now  and  then,  in  the  midst  of  the  pathless  woods, 
we  are  aware  of  a  queer  bookish  flavor  in  the  air.  The  literary 
artist  arranges  his  Httle  scene,  pleasing  in  its  way,  and  well  done ; 
only  it  was  not  just  the  kind  of  pleasure  we  were  looking  for. 
Other  and  greater  artists  can  do  that  better :  what  we  want  of 
Thoreau  is  his  own  peculiar  service,  and  nothing  else. 

In  truth,  he  was  not  free  from  affectations ;  he  was  radically 
provincial ;  and  often  (as  children  complain  of  one  another)  he 
was  "  disagreeable."  But  he  had  deep  and  true  thoughts,  he  was 
of  pure  and  upright  life  and  he  made  a  real  and  lasting  impres- 
sion. He  deserves  the  reputation  that  he  has  with  the  average 
reader,  though  not  the  violent  panegyrics  of  his  thick-and-thin 
admirers.  He  assumed  the  stoicism  and  some  of  the  habits  of 
the  Indian,  and  his  physical  senses  were  approximately  as  acute 
as  theirs ;  but  he  was  really  a  civihzed  man  who  never  found  a 
home  in  civilization.  One  leaves  him  with  a  feeling  of  unmixed 
kindHness ;  and  in  his  "  Walden,"  his  "  Week  on  the  Concord  and 
Merrimac,"  his  "  Cape  Cod  "  and  other  books,  will  be  found  many 
passages  worthy  of  preservation,  which  only  he  could  have  written. 

Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli  (1810-1850).  It  was  not  so  easy, 
nor  so  common,  for  a  woman  to  render  herself  conspicuous  before 
1850,  as  it  has  become  since  then.  But  Margaret  Fuller  accom- 
phshed  the  feat,  and  did  it  without  the  aid  of  the  most  effective 
weapon  in  woman's  arsenal  —  personal  beauty.  From  her  early 
years,  she  had  the  determination  to  be  noticed;  but  her  father, 
observing  a  tendency  on  her  part  to  decorate  her  person,  pointed 


RELIGIOUS  AND   SOCIAL  REFORMERS.  151 

out  to  her  that  she  could  never  hope  to  succeed  on  the  basis  of 
physical  attractions,  or  by  recognized  feminine  devices  :  but  he 
added  that  she  possessed  brains,  and  if  she  used  them  aright,'  a 
career  might  yet  await  her. 

With  the  shrewd  sense  that  was  her  most  useful  characteristic, 
Margaret  heeded  this  wise  advice,  and  heroically  resolved  to  veil 
her  plainness  with  her  cleverness.  She  was  not  without  good 
grounds  for  hope  of  success.  Confidence  and  self-esteem  she 
possessed  in  abundance.  Her  strong  animal  nature  gave  her 
energy  and  persistence ;  she  had  a  flow  of  amusing  though  not 
always  good-natured  wit ;  taste,  but  not  tact ;  a  capacious  and 
retentive  memory,  and  a  certain  intellectual  pas- 
sion, which  enabled  her,  when  warm,  to  say  and  ^^  ^^^^~ 
do  striking  and  sometimes  audacious  things.  There 
was  a  good  deal  of  feminine  finesse  in  her  composition,  and 
much  hardihood  of  character,  so  that  it  was  not  easy  to  deny 
her  what  she  sought :  she  cared  nothing  for  hostility  to  her 
opinions,  or  for  attacks  upon  herself,  provided  only  her  vanity 
was  not  affronted.  If  she  suffered  from  the  disadvantages,  she 
also  profited  by  the  advantages  of  being  a  pioneer  in  the  line 
she  had  chosen.  People  were  so  much  surprised  by  her  unprece- 
dented attitude,  so  amused  at  her  wit  and  so  disheartened  by 
her  display  of  information,  that  they  yielded  to  her  at  discre- 
tion, and  then,  to  account  for  their  subjection,  encouraged  them- 
selves to  see  in  her  all  that  she  claimed  for  herself.  The  stronger 
minds  among  them,  detecting  the  woman  who,  after  all,  was  be- 
hind this  bold  and  brilliant  demonstration,  felt  a  kindly  sympathy 
for  her  gallant  effort,  lent  her  their  countenance  and  support  and 
grew  to  feel  for  her  the  kind  of  affection  that  we  are  apt  to  bestow 
upon  our  own  discoveries  and  prot^g^s. 

In  looking  over  the  field,  Margaret  had  not  failed  to  note  the 
new  departure  towards  culture,  Germanism,  Transcendental  Phi- 
losophy and  Humanitarianism.     Here,  then,  must  be 
her  arena,  and   with  indomitable   energy  she  set  to   ^^^  *" 
work   to   master   all  these   things,  and   become  not 
merely  an  associate  but  a  leader  in  them  all.     The  result  stands 


152  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

as  one  of  the  triumphs  of  perseverance  and  ambition.  She  is 
an  eminent  example  of  how  acquisitions  may  be  substituted  for 
innate  gifts,  and  even  be  mistaken  for  them.  For  her  accom- 
pUshments  were  not  a  natural  and  irresistible  flowering-out  from 
within,  as  in  Emerson's  case,  but  a  deUberate  and  calculated 
plastering- on  from  without ;  the  interior  being  was  left  much  in 
its  original  condition.  None  of  her  learning  penetrated  further 
than  the  sphere  of  the  memory ;  and  though  she  used  it,  with 
considerable  skill,  for  her  own  advancement,  it  could  not  be 
made  to  penetrate  beneath  the  memory  of  her  audience.  But 
she  gained  their  applause  and  sometimes  even  their  awe ;  and 
though  she  always  betrayed  a  restlessness,  not  generally  associated 
with  serenity  and  satisfaction  of  soul,  she  had  won  the  only  kind 
of  success  that  could  be  expected. 

When  "The  Dial "  was  begun,  she  was  its  first  editor,  with  a  salary 
of  two  hundred  dollars  a  year.  The  magazine  came  into  existence 
as  a  reaction  against  the  prevailing  stagnation  of  the  religious  and 
philosophical  atmosphere  :  but  its  contributors  being  unpaid,  could 
not  afford  to  give  it  their  best  work :  many  of  their  lucubrations 
Herconnec-  ^^^^  published  in  a  crude  and  undigested  state,  and 
tion  with  the  gave  the  impression  of  being  hurried  compilations 
"Dial."  ixQx^  miscellaneous  reading,  largely  from  German 
authors.  Nevertheless,  some  of  the,  best  work  of  Emerson  and 
of  Thoreau  appeared  first  in  its  pages ;  and  Margaret  published 
in  it  the  earliest  version  of  her  essay  on  "  Woman  in  the  Nine- 
teenth Century,"  on  which  her  reputation  as  a  writer  rests.  It  is 
clever,  strenuous  and  bold  :  it  is  lacking  in  delicacy,  and  the 
style  is  sometimes  turgid.  But  there  is  more  native  force  in  it 
than  in  any  of  her  other  productions. 

Margaret  had  made  a  conquest  of  Emerson,  and  he  became 
one  of  her  stanchest  supporters,  though  he  admits  that  he  entered 
into  the  acquaintance  reluctantly,  distrusting  her  "  sharp  person- 
ahty,"  and  her  "  intense  times."  At  first,  he  says,  "  she  made  me 
laugh  more  than  I  liked,"  and  he  found  in  her  too  much  of  the 
sibyl,  and  "  a  rather  mountainous  Me."  But  she  saw  the  neces- 
sity of  securing  him,  and  held  on  till  he  succumbed.     "Your 


RELIGIOUS  AND  SOCIAL  REFORMERS.  153 

people  shall  be  my  people,"  she  declared,  "  and  yonder  darling 
boy"  —  Emerson's  son  Waldo  —  "I  shall  cherish  as  my  own." 
She  quartered  herself  in  his  home   for  months  at  a  time,  and 
made  capital  out  of  the  intimacy.     When,  two  years  Emerson's 
after  her  death,   her  biography  was  pubHshed,  Em-   relation  to 
erson  loyally  maintained  her  cause  in  it.     He  spoke     ^' 
of  her  ready  sympathies,  and  said  that  she  had  related  herself 
to  all  the  art,  thought  and   nobleness  of  New  England.      She 
lived  much  of  her  time  in   the   houses  of  her  various  friends, 
giving  them,  in  return  for  their  hospitality,  "  wit,  anecdote,  love- 
stories,  tragedies,  oracles."     And   he  adds,  "  She   seemed   like 
the  queen  of  some  parliament  of  love,  who  carried  the  key  to 
all  confidences,  and  to  whom  every  question  had  been   finally 
referred." 

Her  work  on  the  New  York  "Tribune,"  and  her  "Conversa- 
tions," held  in  Boston,  occupied  her  during  the  next  few  years.  She 
was  always  a  hard  and  faithful  worker,  giving  the  best  she  had,  and 
was  honestly  anxious  to  excel.    As  a  young  woman,  she  had  taught 

school,  supporting  herself  and  other  members  of  her 

Later  years. 
family  with  the  proceeds.     In   1846,  she  sailed  for 

Europe,  and  went  to  Italy,  in  whose   political   affairs   she   had 

conceived   a  vehement  interest.      Here,  to  the  surprise  of  her 

friends,  she   married  an  Italian  nobleman,   much  younger   than 

herself,  the  Marquis  Ossoli ;    and  after  the  birth  of  a  boy,  in 

1848,  the  parents  decided  to  make  their  home  in  America.     They 

set  sail  in  1850;  the  vessel  was  wrecked  off  Fire  Island  Light, 

on  the  Long  Island  coast,  and  all  were  drowned.     Margaret  was 

barely  forty  years  of  age.     Few  women,  in  so  short  a  life,  have 

done  so  much  as  she ;  and  the  tragic  close  of  her  career  invests 

it  with  a  pathetic  dignity. 

William    Ellery    Channing    (i 780-1842).      The    reaction 
against  Calvinism  began  before  the  Revolution,  with  ^  champion 
the  heretical  sermons  of  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Mayhew,   of  Unita- 
of  Boston :   and  Paine's  "  Age  of  Reason  "  had  also  ^*^*"*- 
caused  certain  clergymen  to  bear  lightly  on  the  darker  features 


154  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

of  the  creed.  Their  discourses  were  devoted  to  inculcating  moral 
duties  more  than  to  developing  the  scheme  of  salvation.  At 
length,  however,  what  was  called  Unitarianism  avouched  itself 
as  a  definite  departure  from  the  old  lines ;  and  William  Ellery 
Channing  was  its  most  conspicuous  champion. 

Speaking  broadly,  war  was  declared  between  human  institutions 
and  nature.  The  emancipating  influence  of  Swedenborg  was  felt 
on  the  religious  side ;  in  literature,  criticism  analyzed  many  preju- 
dices ;  and  the  advance  of  science  modified  the  general  point  of 
view.  Men  Hke  Lavater,  Gall  and  Spurzheim  ransacked  the  mys- 
teries of  humanity,  and  Goethe's  severe  but  searching  philosophy 
contributed  much  towards  the  intellectual  revolution. 

Channing  was  a  Harvard  graduate,  born  in  Newport,  Rhode 
Island  ;  was  a  precocious  and  able  student,  but  delicate  in  physical 
health.  In  1803,  he  was  already  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  and 
in  a  few  years  gained  a  reputation  for  eloquence  in  the  pulpit  une- 
qualled in  his  day  and  place.  He  was  an  authority  on  political 
and  literary  as  well  as  on  religious  questions  ;  his  essay  on  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  attracted  attention  abroad,  and  that  on  Milton  added 
to  his  reputation.  He  was  in  intellectual  sympathy  with  Words- 
worth and  Coleridge,  relying,  like  them,  on  the  essential  dignity 
of  human  nature,  and  inclining  to  deny  any  intermediation  be- 
tween man's  soul  and  its  Creator.  Reason,  he  held,  was  adequate 
to  apprehend  God ;  and  the  moral  instincts  we  find  in  ourselves 
give  us  the  measure  of  the  Divine  nature.  The  highest  human 
state,  he  thought,  was  that  in  which  the  sense  of  duty  is  forgotten 
in  the  spontaneous  fervor  of  love.  Calvinism,  he  declared,  de- 
graded man's  nature,  and  was  abhorrent  to  our  Divine  intuitions. 

Channing  overflowed  with  a  joyous  and  hopeful  piety ;  he  painted 
in  enchanting  colors  the  delights  of  heavenly-mindedness,  and 
inculcated  the  idea  that  God  was  ready  to  bless  and  receive,  not 
the  elect  only,  but  every  one  who  should  come  to  Him  in  faith 
and  charity.  His  enthusiasm  was  contagious,  and  his  followers 
were  many;  yet  he  spoke  from  theory  rather  than  from  actual 
knowledge  of  men,  whom  he  credited  with  a  nature  already 
regenerate.      Nor  did  he  see  the   logical  conclusions  to  which 


RELIGIOUS  AND  SOCIAL  REFORMERS.  155 

his  doctrines  might  be  carried.  They  could  be  used  to  show  that 
Christ  was  but  a  man  of  uncommon  genius,  and  that  the  Bible 
was  not  the  revealed  Word  of  God,  since  God  revealed  himself 
directly  to  his  creatures.  He  failed  to  realize  that  as  soon  as 
individual  conscience  is  made  the  measure  of  the  Almighty,  the 
foundations  of  all  religion  are  in  danger. 

His  teachings  were  supplemented  by  those  of  Andrew  Norton, 
who  attempted  to  prove,  by  reference  to  Holy  Writ,  that  Calvinism 
falsified  its  true  intention.  Norton  (i 786-1853)  was  a  profound 
Biblical  scholar,  and  his  arguments,  though  lacking  in  Channing's 
fervor,  were  lucid  and  convincing.  He  criticised  the  doctrine  of 
the  Trinity,  but  wrote  an  elaborate  treatise  in  support  of  the 
genuineness  of  the  Gospels.  While  Norton  and  Channing  were 
preaching  and  writing  to  this  effect  in  Boston,  Orville  Dewey 
(i 795-1882)  was  doing  a  similar  work  in  New  York. 

The  secession  thus  begun  was  carried  on,  and  carried  further, 
by  several  vigorous  minds.  We  have  seen  what  course  Emerson 
steered  ;  and  Theodore  Parker  (i 810-1860),  a  great  fighter  and 
an  indomitable  controversialist,  immensely  in  earnest  and  winning, 
ended  by  seceding  even  from  the  seceders,  and  establishing;  a 
church  and  sect  of  his  own.  His  "  Lessons  from  the  World  of 
Matter  and  the  World  of  Man,"  and  his  "  Historic  American^  " 
are  still  read ;  and  during  his  lifetime  no  man's  followers  were 
more  ardent  than  his.  A  more  profound  and  weighty  writer  was 
Horace  Bushnell  (1802-18 76),  whose  many  books  have  as  yet 
lost  Uttle  of  their  value,  and  whose  "  Moral  Uses  of  Dark  Things  " 
should  be  studied  by  every  student.  Other  names  still  fresh  in 
the  memory  are  John  Weiss  and  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  Mark 
Hopkins,  John  Fiske,  and  W.  T.  Harris.  The  latter,  born  in 
1835,  has  of  late  years  lived  in  Concord.  He  has  studied  and 
digested  all  philosophies,  from  Aristotle  to  Emerson,  and  wher- 
ever the  new  light  is  brightest  and  clearest,  he  is  to  be  found. 
He  edited  the  *' Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy,"  and  he  him- 
self consta-ucted  an  "  Outline  of  Philosophy,"  which  seems  to 
embody  most  of  the  sound  features  of  previous  systems,  and  to 
eliminate  their  errors.     Jones  Very  (i  813-1880)  was  a  sort  of 


156  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

slender  American  shadow  of  William  Blake,  with  the  masculine 
strength  and  the  painter's  genius  left  out ;  he  was  a  mystic  and 
a  spiritist,  and  wrote  some  deep  and  delicate  little  poems  under 
what  he  believed  to  be  direct  spirit  guidance.  Finally,  Henry 
James,  Sr.  (1811-1882),  the  father  of  the  novelist,  may  be 
regarded  —  though  his  first  substantial  volume  bears  date  1863 
—  as  a  writer  who  belongs  to  the  future  rather  than  to  the  present. 
His  principal  books,  —  "Substance  and  Shadow,"  "The  Secret 
of  Swedenborg,"  and  "Society  the  Redeemed  Form  of  Man,"  — 
written  in  a  style  which,  for  wit  and  humor,  vigor,  elevation,  and 
rich,  homely  flavor,  has  never  been  surpassed,  treat  of  the  largest 
problems  of  man  and  his  destiny.  Their  point  of  view  is  radi- 
cally novel,  and  yet  affirms  views  of  the  relations  between  Creator 
and  creature  which  are  in  some  senses  far  more  orthodox  than 
those  of  the  Unitarian  dissenters.  The  validity  of  the  Divine 
Incarnation  is  especially  insisted  on,  and  a  light  is  thrown  upon 
its  esoteric  significance,  concerning  the  bearing  of  which  upon 
future  religious  philosophizing  it  is  still  too  early  to  pass  an  opinion. 
Mr.  James's  writings  are,  at  all  events,  one  of  the  later  and  most 
powerful  products  of  that  spiritual  quickening  which  has  done  so 
much  to  ally  religion  with  literature. 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE.  157 


VIII. 
NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE. 

Men  and  women  cannot  be  nourished  on  abstractions.    Theories 
and  philosophical  speculations  are  artificial  things.     There  is  no 
thought  apart  froi  i  the  person  thinking,  and  no  rule  of  life  dis- 
tinct from  the  person  by  whom  it^is  obeyed.     In  actual  experience 
there  is  no  knowledge,  nor  any  knowing  person,  unless  there  is 
a  thing  for  that  person  to  know.     Logicians  call  the  person  know- 
ing, the  subject  of  knowledge  ;  and  the  thing  known,  the  object  of  • 
knowledge ;   and  (for  convenience  of  reasoning  and  ^  metaphys- 
analyzing)  they  separate  the  one  from  the  other,  and  icai  distinc- 
consider  them  separately.     But  in  reality  the  object  ^°^* 
known  creates  the  subject  knowing :    and  if  the  object  is  taken 
away,  the  subject  (so  far  as  that  object  is  concerned)  ceases  to 
exist.     You  know  a  flower,  so  long  as  the  flower  is  there ;  but  if 
it  is  not  there,  neither  are  you  there  to  know  it. 

Object  and  subject,  then,  are  one  by  the  fact  of  their  mutual 
relation ;  and  to  separate  them  in  thought  is  an  arbitrary  and 
unreal  expedient.  There  can  be  no  principles  save  as  illustrated 
by  human  beings;  therefore  to  gain  a  living  understanding  of 
principles  we  must  study  not  the  principles  in  the  abstract,  but 
the  human  beings  themselves.  Men  like  Fourier,  Emerson  and 
Channing  had  been  dealing  in  abstractions.  But  abstractions  are 
dead  :  to  make  them  live  they  must  be  restored  to  the  sphere 
of  concrete  human  experience  from  which  they  were  abstracted. 
The  mass  of  people  have  hot  creative  imagination,  and,  until  they 
are  shown  principles  in  practical  operation,  they  are  mere  words 
to  them. 

For  more  than  thirty  years  America  had  been  listening  to 
theorists   and   philosophers,   who   stated   their   propositions   and 


158  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

demonstrated  them  by  logic,  and  even  got  the  truth  of  their 
demonstrations  admitted.  But  this  having  been  done,  nothing 
seemed  to  follow.  Creation  had  been  explained,  error  had  been 
exposed,  remedies  advocated ;  and  yet  earth,  man  and  heaven 
remained  unaltered.  People  went  about  their  affairs  as  if  all  this 
learning,  ingenuity  and  eloquence  were  no  more  than  the  declaim- 
ing of  actors  in  a  play.  These  were  fine,  exhilarating  sentiments 
that  they  had  heard ;  but,  personally  and  practically,  they  did 
not  know  what  to  do  with  them.  What  is  one  to  do  with  an 
abstraction  ? 

No  truth  is  wasted  :  but  its  usefulness  must  remain  in  abeyance 
until  it  has  been  applied  to  life.  Man  cannot  be  nourished  through 
his  intellect  alone.     His  feelings   must   be   aroused  —  his  sym- 

\  Reason  does  P^^hies,  aversions,  loves  and  fears.  He  must  be  led 
not  express  to  think  of  himself  as  involved,  actively  and  ardently, 
au  of  u  e.  -j^  ^j^g  working  out  of  ideas.  He  must  be  shown, 
not  a  mathematical  diagram,  but  a  picture,  with  all  the  warmth 

\j  and  color  of  life.  He  must  see  human  figures,  hear  their  voices, 
and  witness  their  joys  and  griefs.  His  heart  must  beat  in  response 
to  theirs ;  he  must  feel  their  presence  and  share  their  emotions. 
He  must  know  their  names,  faces  and  habits,  and  enter  into  their 
existence  as  his  own.  A  genius  was  needed  to  interpret  life 
from  within,  instead  of  any  longer  dissecting  its  divorced  parts^ 
This  genius  appeared  in  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 

He  had  nothing  to  do  with  abstractions.  Man,  living  in  his  nat- 
ural environment,  was  the  game  he  hunted.  Philosophy,  as  dis- 
tinct from  persons,  had  no  interest  for  him.  He  turned  human 
beings  into  philosophy,  and  he  turned  philosophy  into 
fteld!^°"^^'^  human  beings.  He  neither  ignored  the  spirit  of 
things  in  painting  the  outside,  nor  did  he  neglect 
the  outside  in  order  to  exploit  the  spirit.  He  did  not  even 
penetrate  through  the  surface  to  the  interior;  but  he  entered 
by  sympathy  into  the  being  he  was  studying,  looked  out  through 
his  eyes,  felt  his  circumstances,  performed  his  actions  and  thought 
his  thoughts,  and  thus  livingly  and  completely  interpreted  him. 
He  was  no  vivisector  of  humanity,  as  has  been  asserted,  nor  did 


r 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE.  159 


he  ever  violate  its  sanctities ;   but,  because  he  profoundly  com- 
prehended it,  he  treated  it  with  tenderness  and  reverence. 

The  books  he  wrote  differ  in  character  from  what  had  been 
called  novels;  nor  did  they  more  resemble  the  conventional 
romance.  Their  author  called  them  romances ;  but  he  added  a 
definition  of  romance  which  had  never  before  been  made.  In 
fact,  the  books  are  unique  in  kind.  Neither  before  nor  since  their 
appearance  have  any  other  books  been  written  which  can  be 
classed  with  them  either  in  point  of  execution  or  conception. 
They  comprehend  the  sphere  of  thought  belonging  to  the  period 
we  have  been  discussing ;  they  incarnate  this  thought  in  humanity, 
and  they  transfigure  the  incarnation  by  art. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne  (i  804-1 864)  was  born  in  Salem,  Mas- 
sachusetts, on  the  Fourth  of  July.  His  immediate  ancestors  were 
seafaring  men,  trading  with  the  East  Indies.  An  uncle  had  com- 
manded  a   privateer   in    the    Revolution.      A   more 

•    J  J   1     J   1.  Ancestry, 

remote  progenitor  was  a  judge,  and  had  been   con- 
cerned in  the  trials  of  the  witches  in  the  seventeenth  century. 
Others  had  commanded  troops  against  the   Indians.     The  race 
had  the  characteristics  of  the  Puritans,  and  were  l^ld  to  be  even 
more  stern  and  unconciliating  than  the  average  of  their  kind. 

Nathaniel's  mother  was  a  woman  of  beauty,  dignity,  and  un- 
usual intellect.  He  more  resembled  her  than  his  father,  who  died 
when  he  was  a  child.  His  mother  retired  from  society  and  be- 
came a  recluse  in  her  own  house.     The  boy  was  educated  under 

the  superintendence  of  his  maternal   uncle,  but  was 

Boyhood. 
not  an  assiduous  student.  He  Hked  desultory  read- 
ing, out-door  play,  hunting  and  skating.  He  had  an  arch  love  of 
mischief,  a  consciousness  of  power,  and  a  healthy  independence 
of  character.  He  was  never  in  a  hurry,  and  took  life  easily  and 
with  enjoyment.  He  showed  signs  of  an  active  imagination, 
objective  and  wholesome.  Personally  he  was  a  finely-built, 
athletic  and  very  handsome  boy,  and  strength  and  beauty  char- 
acterized him  through  life.     He  never  suffered  from  illness. 

His  uncle  owned  an  estate  at  Raymond,  in  Maine,  on  the  bor- 


160  AMERICAN  LITER  A  TURE. 

ders  of  Sebago  Lake,  and  surrounded  by  the  primeval  forest.  He 
spent  some  years  there,  tracking  bear,  shooting  small  game,  and 
boating  or  skating  on  the  lake.  Fitting  himself  leisurely  for  col- 
lege, he  entered  Bowdoin  in  1821.  He  showed  himself  a  good 
Latin  and  Greek  scholar,  but  neither  sought  nor  obtained  high 
rank.  After  taking  his  degree,  he  returned  to  Salem,  and  lived 
there  with  his  mother  and  his  two  sisters  for  twelve  years.  None 
of  the  family  either  went  into  or  received  society.  Young  Haw- 
thorne had  a  social  and  friendly  nature,  but  he  did  not  depend  on 
others  for  his  happiness,  and,  living  thus,  the  habit  of  solitude  and 
seclusion  grew  on  him.  From  the  age  of  twenty- one  to  thirty- 
three,  he  may  be  said  to  have  been  practically  without  a  companion 
in  the  world.  As  regards  his  genius,  it  was  the  most  important 
period  of  his  life. 

Once  in  a  while,  he  would  make  a  solitary  excursion  into  the 
New  Hampshire  hills,  or,  going  further  north,  would  spend  a  week 
or  two  with  his  friend  Bridge,  a  classmate,  and  the  only  man  with 
whom  he  stood  on  a  footing  approaching  intimacy.  He  read  a 
good  deal,  meditated  more  than  he  read,  and  wrote  somewhat. 

Most  of  what  he  wrote,  he  burnt ;  some  articles 
authorship      a^eared   in   periodicals,  but   seldom   over   his  own 

signature.  No  one  seemed  to  read  them,  and  no  one 
seemed  to  know  that  he  wrote  them.  At  length  a  young  lady 
living  a  few  doors  from  him  identified  him  as  the  author  of  a 
sketch  called  "  The  Gentle  Boy,"  and  this  was  the  means  of  his 
being  seen  again  in  the  world,  after  so  long  a  retirement.  A 
few  years  later  he  became  engaged  to  the  sister  of  the  lady  who 
had  drawn  him  from  his  seclusion  ;  and  after  he  had  made  experi- 
ment (with  unfavorable  results)  of  the  new  Brook  Farm  Com- 
munity, he  married  Miss  Sophia  Peabody,  and  they  went  to  live 
in  the  Old  Manse,  at  Concord. 

From  1842  to  1853,  Hawthorne  was  supported  partly  by  writ- 
ing, and  partly  as  surveyor  in  the  Salem  Custom  House.  In  1850 
he  wrote  the  "  Scarlet  Letter."  The  "  House  of  the  Seven  Gables," 
"The  BHthedale  Romance,"  "The  Wonder  Book,"  and  "Tangle- 
wood  Tales,"  all  appeared,  successively,  during  the  next  three 


NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE,  161 

years.     He   had   published,  before   1850,  four  volumes   of  short 
sketches,  called  "  Twice-Told  Tales  "  and  "  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse,"  besides  some  historical  and  biographical  sketches  for  chil- 
dren, under  the  title  of  "  Grandfather's  Chair"  ;  and  "The  Snow- 
Image,  and  Other  Stories."    In  1853,  Franklin  Pierce, 
the   new  president,  a   college    friend  of  Hawthorne  ^gj^^ 
(who   had  written  a   campaign    biography  of  him), 
appointed  him  consul  at  Liverpool,  England.     He  took  his  family 
thither :  shortly  before  his  term  of  office  expired,  he  resigned  it, 
and  visited  France  and  Italy.     He 
returned  to  England  to  spend  the 
winter  of   1859,   and   to   write    his 
"  Marble  Faun."   The  following  sum- 
mer he   returned   to  America,  and 
took   up   his   residence   on   a   little 
estate  he  had  purchased  before  leav- 
ing home,  —  The  Wayside,  in  Con- 

1  _-.  ,  ,       ,  "The  Old  Manse." 

cord.     Here   he  worked  on  a  new 

romance ;  but  his  health  had  begun  to  fail,  and  the  Civil  War 
disturbed  his  mind.  He  gave  up  the  romance,  but  published 
a  volume  of  sketches  of  his  English  experience  (which  he  had 
designed  to  use  as  the  background  and  side-scenes  of  the  story) 
under  the  title  of  "  Our  Old  Home."  Shortly  after,  he  once 
more  took  up  the  romance,  under  a  new  conception,  and  two 
instalments  of  it  were  printed  in  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly  Maga- 
zine." He  died  suddenly,  on  May  19,  1864,  while  on  a  journey 
to  New  Hampshire  in  search  of  health  with  his  friend  Franklin 
Pierce.  After  his  death  were  published  "  Septin^ius,  a  Romance," 
" American  Note-Books,"  "English  Note-Books,"  "French  and 
Italian  Note-Books,"  and  "Doctor  Grimshawe's  Secret,"  a  romance. 
The  "  Septimius  "  and  the  "  Grimshawe  "  were  the  abortive  studies 
that  he  had  written,  but  had  not  prepared  for  the  press,  on  his 
return  from  England.  To  them  may  be  added  the  chapters 
of  "  The  Dolliver  Romance "  that  appeared  in  the  "  Atlantic 
Monthly." 

This  career  has  little  to  recommend  it  in  the  way  of  adventure 


162  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

or  vicissitude  :  but,  such  as  it  is,  it  is  the  outward  biography  of 
the  greatest  of  American  men  of  letters.  His  mental  and  spiritual 
history  is  more  interesting ;  and  to  study  it  we  must  have  recourse 
to  his  own  writings.  He  sometimes  alludes  to  himself,  in  a  semi- 
impersonal  way,  in  the  prefaces  to  his  books ;  but,  as  he  remarks, 
"  these  things  hide  the  man,  instead  of  displaying  him.  You  must 
make  quite  another  kind  of  inquest,  and  look  through  the  range 
of  his  fictitious  characters,  in  order  to  detect  any  of  his  essential 
traits." 

In  the  *^  Ambitious  Guest,"  one  of  his  earlier  stories,  we  find 
this  allusion  to  the  hero  of  the  tale,  in  which  Hawthorne  is  evi- 
dently speaking  of  himself:  "A  glory  was  to  beam  upon  his 
pathway,  though  not,  perhaps,  while  he  was  treading  it.  But 
posterity  should  confess  that  a  gifted  one  had  passed  from  the 
cradle  to  the  tomb,  with  none  to  recognize  him."  There  we  have 
a  glimpse  of  one  of  his  moods  during  that  long,  solitary  vigil  of 
twelve  years  in  Salem.     Elsewhere,  still  speaking  of  himself  under 

the  guise  of  an  imaginary  character,  he  refers  to  the 
^apM^        lack  of  sympathy  and  understanding  with  which  his 

essays  in  Hterature  were  met  by  his  fellow  towns- 
people. He  was  "  ranked  with  tavern  hunters,  and  town  paupers, 
and  the  drunken  poets  who  hawked  their  ballads  in  the  streets  "  : 
he  had  no  readers,  still  less  any  critics,  and  no  materials  but 
thin  air  to- concoct  his  stories  of.  "  I  used  to  think,"  he  remarked 
long  afterwards,  "  that  I  could  imagine  all  feelings  and  passions ; 
but  how  Httle  I  knew  ! "  He  began  to  fear  lest  the  habit  of 
seclusion  should  so  grow  upon  him  that  he  would  never  be  able 
to  escape  from  it.,  "  An  influence  beyond  our  control,"  he  says 
in  "  Wakefield,"  "  lays  its  strong  hand  on  every  deed  we  do,  and 
weaves  its  consequences  into  an  iron  tissue  of  necessity.  Amid 
the  seeming  confusion  of  our  mysterious  world,  individuals  are 
so  nicely  adjusted  to  a  system,  that,  by  stepping  aside  for  a 
moment,  a  man  exposes  himself  to  a  fearful  risk  of  losing  his 
place  forever." 

But  this  period  of  retirement  was  doubtless  of  lasting  value  in 
developing  his  genius.     Like  the  young  champions  of  mediaeval 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE.  163 

times,  on  the  eve  of  knighthood,  he  was  shut  up  alone,  to  watch 
and  pray  beside  his  armor.  Only  a  powerful  and  finely  balanced 
organization  could  have  endured  the  strain,  and  emerged  the 
stronger  for  it.  "  Was  there  ever  such  a  delay  in  obtaining  recog- 
nition?" he  exclaims.  "  I  sat  down  by  the  wayside  of  Hfe  like  a 
man  under  enchantment.  There  is  no  fate  in  the  world  so  horrible 
as  to  have  no  share  in  either  its  joys  or  sorrows.  I  have  not  lived  : 
I  have  only  dreamed  of  living."  But  Providence  regards  not  the 
individual's  comfort,  but  his  uses.  For  the  work  Hawthorne  had 
to  do,  not  only  his  native  ability  was  needed,  but  the  test  of 
banishment  to  the  Wilderness.  Meditation  would 
create  in  him  a  touchstone  of  truth,  wherewith  i,^^^^** 
to  search  the  human  heart.  When,  at  length,  he 
emerged,  it  was  with  strange  powers  and  gifts.  "  Angels  seemed 
to  have  sat  with  him  at  the  fireside,"  he  says,  in  "The  Great 
Stone  Face,"  "  and  he  had  imbibed  the  sublimity  of  their  ideas, 
and  imbued  it  with  the  sweet  and  lowly  charm  of  household 
words."  He  had  the  wise  instinct  not  to  hasten  his  develop- 
ment. He  would  not  pull  up  the  seeds  in  his  mental  garden,  to 
see  how  they  were  growing.  His  power  to  be  patient  equalled 
his  need  of  patience.  Nor  was  he  ever  extravagant :  for  he  had 
both  profound  humor  and  sterling  common  sense.  "  The  great, 
round,  solid  earth  "  he  was  so  fond  of  is  ever  under  his  feet :  he 
recognized  the  vastness  of  the  creative  plan :  he  took  his  stand  at 
the  centre  of  things  :  and  the  genesis  of  his  most  airy  vagaries 
can  always  be  traced  to  some  settled  basis  of  fact  or  truth. 

At  first,  he  intimates,  "  I  immensely  underrated  the  difficulties  of 
my  trade ;  but  now  I  recognized  that  it  demanded  nothing  short 
of  my  whole  powers."  He  was  not  only  his  own  sole  critic,  but 
also  the  severest  that  ever  sat  in  judgment  on  him.  For  his  twelve 
years'  work,  he  had  to  show  only  some  forty-five  short  sketches  : 
the  rest  he  had  burnt  unprinted.  The  practical  side  of  his  nature 
kept  the  imaginative  side  in  check ;  and  this  self-poise  it  was  that 
enabled  him  to  write  "  Hawthornesque  "  romance,  which,  "  while,  as 
a  work  of  art,  it  must  rigidly  subject  itself  to  laws,"  and  "while  it  sins 
unpardonably  so  far  as  it  may  swerve  aside  from  the  truth  of  the 


164  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

human  heart,  has  fairly  a  right  to  present  that  truth  under  circum- 
stances, to  a  great  extent,  of  the  writer's  own  choosing  or  cre- 
ation." But,  in  pruning,  he  strengthened  his  imagination,  until  he 
could  see  through  the  changing  and  turbulent  shows  of  things  to 
the  serene  and  permanent  realities  underneath.  At  the  age  of 
twenty-seven,  we  may  suppose  him  to  have  mastered  his  art. 
Thenceforward  he  could  do  anything  in  it  that  he  wished. 

It  may  have  been  that  he  did  not,  originally,  intend  to  devote 
himself  exclusively  to  works  of  imagination  or  fiction.  But  he  soon 
found  that  he  could  utter  himself  fully  in  no  other  way.  He  saw 
the  soul  of  things,  and  spoke  in  tropes.  He  humanized  everything 
he  touched,  bringing  it  into  relation  with  the  spirit  of  man.  He 
could  not  simply  recite  bare  facts  :  he  must  show  them  colored 
and  solidified  by  imaginatio«.  Moreover,  he  desired  to  touch  the 
Fiction  his  heart  of  mankind  with  his  own.  "He  aimed,  in  his 
proper  in-  tales,  not  to  approve  himself  an  original  thinker,  but 
s  rumen  .  ^^  establish  bonds  of  sympathy  with  his  fellow-men. 
To  be  true,  not  to  be  "  original,"  was  his  resolve  :  and  truth  is 
for  its  wearer  a  cloak  of  invisibility,  because  of  its  impersonal 
quality,  and  enables  him  to  mingle  freely  in  all  societies,  seeing, 
but  unseen.  "^ 

Though  by  training  exclusive,  Hawthotne  was  deeply  conscious 
of  the  universal  brotherhood  of  man.  In  "The  Procession  of 
Life "  he  considers  the  various  ties  which  unite  men  together. 
Notion  of  Intellectual  power  "is  but  a  higher  development  of 
universal  innate  gifts  common  to  all,  and  will  vanish  beyond 
brotherhood,    ^j^^    ^-^.^1^   ^^  ^^^   present   world."      But  when   the 

trumpet  sounds  for  the  Guilty  to  assemble,  "  even  the  purest 
may  be  sensible  of  some  faint  responding  echo  in  his  heart. 
Many,  however,  will  be  astonished  at  the  fatal  impulse  that 
drags  them  thitherward.  Nothing  is  more  remarkable  than  the 
various  deceptions  by  which  guilt  conceals  itself  from  the  perpe- 
trator's conscience."  This  point  is  touched  on  in  other  places, 
as,  for  instance,  in  "  Fancy's  Show-box  "  :  "  Man  must  not  dis- 
claim his  brotherhood  even  with  the  guiltiest,  since,  though  his 
hand  be  clean,  his  heart  has  surely  been  polluted  by  the  flitting 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 


1^5 


phantoms  of  iniquity."  Again,  in  ''Young  Goodman  Brown"  — 
"  Evil  is  the  nature  of  mankind  "  :  and  in  "  The  Minister's  Black 
Veil,"  —  "I  look  around  me,  and  lo  !  on  every  visage  a  black 
veil ! " 

In  "  The  Hall  of  Fantasy  "  Hawthorne  passes  in  review,  with  a 
glance  half  playful  and  half  serious,  the  whole  matter  of  Reform 
that  was  then  agitating  the  country.  He  saw  there  the  "  repre- 
sentatives of  an  unquiet  period,  when  mankind  is  seeking  to  east 
off  the  whole  tissue  of  ancient  custom,  like  a  tattered  garment." 
But,  through  the  confusion  of  their  incompatible  notions,  he  per- 
ceives that  they  were  "  united  in  one  sentiment  —  the  struggle  of 
the  race  after  a  better  and  a  purer  life  than  had  yet  been  realized 
on  the  earth."  And  although  "  truth  has  an  intoxicating  quality 
when  imbibed  by  any  save  a  powerful  intellect,  and  often  impels 
the  quaffer  to  quarrel  in  his  cups,"  nevertheless,  "  above  them  all 
is  the  breadth  of  Providence." 

AUied  with  this  theme  is  the  empty  nature  of  many  of  the  accu- 
mulations of  our   present  civilization,   which  are  treated  of  in 
"  Earth's  Holocaust"  —  the  great  bonfire  in  which  all  such  super- 
fluities are  to  be  consumed.     But  while  conceding  to  the  reform- 
ers that  nature  may  be  better  than  books,  and  the 
mind  deeper  than  any  system  of  philosophy,  yet  he   ^^^^w*®^ 
points  out  that  unless  the  heart  be  purified,  and  we  go 
deeper  than  the  intellect,  "  our  whole  accomplishment  is  a  dream." 
But   the   most   sweeping   reforms   can   do   no    real   harm,    since 
"not  a  truth  is  destroyed,  and  only  what   is   evil   can  feel   the 
action  of  the  fire." 

The  subject  is  treated  from  another  point  of  view  in  "The  New 
Adam  and  Eve."  Here  the  circumstances  of  civilized  Hfe  are 
detached  from  the  traditional  quality  that  they  have  acquired,  and 
are  criticised  as  they  are  in  themselves.  The  new  beings  have  no 
comprehension  of  our  machinery  for  measuring  time,  for  "  nature 
would  measure  time  by  the  succession  of  thoughts  and  acts  which 
constitute  our  real  life."  They  are  perplexed  by  the  church,  for 
"  their  life  thus  far  has  been  a  constant  prayer ;  purity  and  sim- 
plicity hold  converse  at  every  moment  with  their  Creator."     Still 


166  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

less  can  they  fathom  the  meaning  of  the  prison.  Every  remedy 
for  the  cure  of  sin  had  been  tried  except  Love  —  "the  flower 
that  grew  in  Heaven  and  was  sovereign  for  all  the  miseries  of 
earth."  Nothing  so  well  as  a  creative  and  reverent  imagination 
can  loosen  the  fetters  which  we  mistakenly  call  truth  and  reahty, 
and  make  us  sensible  what  prisoners  we  are. 

Hawthorne's  works  do  not  contain  much  direct  discussion  of 
religion.  He  did  not  insist  on  a  rational  explanation  of  all  mys- 
teries. What  is  essential,  is  intuitive.  Because  for  the  present 
the  Creator  withholds  the  spiritual  perception,  we  are  not  to  con- 
tend that  there  is  no  spiritual  world.  There  is  a  world  which  will 
fulfil  all  the  wants  of  the  human  soul :  and  even  here,  what  is 
good  and  true  becomes  fixed,  while  error  melts  away  and  vanishes. 
The  deeper  the  level  at  which  Hawthorne  moves,  the 
views  ^"*  more  optimistic  does  he  become.  His  most  momen- 
tous conclusions  are  also  his  most  hopeful  ones.  He 
is  never  commonplace,  and,. on  the  other  hand,  is  never  sensa- 
tional, but  says  the  thing  to  which  our  unprejudiced  judgment 
must  agree.  And  yet  no  writer  in  our  literature  is  so  revolutionary 
as  Hawthorne.  We  do  not  observe  it,  for  the  very  reason  that 
he  is  so  profound. 

Such  are  some  of  the  hints  as  to  Hawthorne's  character  and 
opinions  that  may  be  gathered  from  the  volumes  preceding  the 
publication  of  "The  Scarlet  Letter."  We  have  made  use  of  them 
more  particularly  because  they  are  less  widely  known  than  are  his 
great  romances,  and  also  cover  a  wider  field.  Beautiful  as  stories 
though  his  early  pieces  are,  the  story  in  them  was  never  his  chief 
object.  They  are  wrought  out  of  the  substance  of  his  life,  and 
are  ahve,  depth  beyond  depth.  Nothing  but  the  framework  of 
them  is  fictitious  :  their  substance  is  truth  :  and  art  is  the  form 
that  symmetrical  truth  assumes,  and  to  which  imagination  gives 
solidity. 

The  "  Scarlet  Letter  "  was  Hawthorne's  first  complete  expres- 
sion of  a  single  given  group  of  ideas.  Like  all  his  longer  ro- 
mances, it  has  a  rich,  multifarious  life  of  its  own.  When  an 
architect  builds  a  temple,  it  owes  its  design  to  him,  but  all  the 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE.  167 

rest  to  nature.  Nature  made  the  marble,  the  earth  on  which  the 
temple  stands,  the  trees  and  mountains  that  are  its  background, 
the  sun  and  shade  that  rest  upon  its  pediment  and 
pillars.  In  "  The  Scarlet  Letter "  the  design  of  Letter^"^^** 
the  story  is  a  matter  of  judgment  and  selection; 
but  the  treatment  —  which  belongs  to  Hawthorne's  genius  — 
bears  the  same  relation  to  the  plot  that  nature  bears  to  the 
ijdea  of  the  temple.  Even  in  the  choice  of  a  certain  one  out 
of  several  possible  aspects  of  the  theme,  Hawthorne,  however, 
displays  rare  wisdom.  He  declined  to  tell  the  story  of  the 
enacting  of  the  sin,  for  that,  however  interesting  from  the  sensa- 
tional point  of  view,  was  vulgar  and  commonplace,  and  involved 
no  spiritual  lesson.  He  perceived  that  the  true  importance  of 
the  narrative  was  in  the  consequences  of  the  sinful  act  upon 
ihe  natures  of  the  actors;  in  the  methods  adopted  by  society, 
and  by  the  husband,  to  punish  it,  and  in  the  final  solution 
which  the  errors  of  all  concerned  negatively  indicated.  Having 
chosen  his  field,  he  proceeded  to  do  his  work  as  only  he  could 
have  done  it. 

Consider,  for  example,  what  subtle  and  impressive  use  he  makes 
of  the  scarlet  letter  itself.  To  an  ordinary  writer  it  might  have 
proved  an  inconvenience ;  but  to  Hawthorne  it  is  a  means  of  con- 
veying impressions  too  delicate  to  be  put  in  direct  words.  He 
has,  indeed,  a  fondness  for  such  figurative  symbols,  and  employs 
them  always  to  spiritualize  the  grossness  of  the  subject,  and  to 

transmute   its   prose    to    poetry.       We    feel   how  the 

^  ^        ^  The  letter. 

terrible  letter  burns  on  Hester's  breast ;  we  see  it  cast 

a  glow  along  her  pathway,  and  we  perceive  how,  while  isolating 

her  in  literal  fact,  it  mystically  reveals  the  sympathetic  but  secret 

guilt  of  others.     By  a  ghastly  miracle  it  is  revealed  on  the  breast 

of  the  minister,  Dimmesdale.     And  at  length,  to  the  morbid  eye 

of  the  transgressor,  it  appears,  drawn  in  fire,  on  the  face  of  the 

sky  itself. 

Dimmesdale,  Hester  and  ChiUingworth  work  out  their  several 

destinies,  and  the  solution  finally  reached  has  the  inevitable  force 

of  a  living  experience.     But    Pearl,  Hester's   Httle    child,  is   the 


168  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

great  original  creation  of  the  book.  She  would  much  have  em- 
barrassed the  ordinary  novelist,  but  Hawthorne  makes  her  the 
focus  of  the  drama.  She  is  a  unique  figure  in  literature,  and  so 
vivid  is  her  vitahty,  she  seems  to  spring  from  the 
page,  and  become  incarnate  before  our  eyes.  Pearl 
is  Hester's  greatest  torture,  but  she  is  her  blessing  and  salva- 
tion as  well.  "  Make  my  excuses  to  him,"  she  says  to  old 
Mistress  Hibbard,  in  response  to  the  latter's  invitation  to  meet 
the  Black  Man  in  the  forest ;  "  I  must  tarry  at  home  and 
keep  watch  over  my  little  Pearl."  The  child  is  like  a  beautiful 
but  poisonous  flower,  rejoicing  in  its  poison,  and  receiving  it 
as  the  very  breath  of  its  life ;  yet,  being  a  child,  and  without 
experience,  she  is  devoid  of  evil  and  of  good  principles  ahke  :  she 
is  in  the  instinctive  stage  of  growth.  And  as  the  same  pure  sun- 
light vivifies  noxious  as  well  as  benign  forms  of  existence,  so  the 
evil  proclivities  in  Pearl's  nature  are  energized,  but  not  consti- 
tuted, by  the  Divine  source  of  her  being. 

In  "  Rappacini's  Daughter,"  one  of  Hawthorne's  ^horter  tales, 
the  character  of  Beatrice  presents  a  problem  somewhat  similar  to 
Pearl's.  The  former  is  nourished  upon  poisons,  until  her  touch 
and  her  breath  become  a  concentration  of  poison.  In  both  cases. 
The  subject  ^^  personal  soul  stands  behind  the  imported  evil, 
in  another  and  the  question  stands.  Shall  the  soul  become  the 
^  **®*  victim  of  its  involuntary  circumstances?     Hawthorne, 

in  both  cases,  incHnes  to  the  brighter  alternative.  He  suggests 
that  although,  for  inscrutable  purposes,  God  incarnates  us  in  evil, 
our  souls  need  not  therefore  suffer  destruction.  Again,  in  "The 
Marble  Faun,"  the  last,  and  perhaps  the  greatest  of  Hawthorne's 
books,  we  find  Miriam  involved  in  the  shadow  of  another's  crime. 
Possessing  a  strong  will,  and  moral  independence,  her  intellect 
and  her  creative  imagination  are  aroused,  and  she  canvasses 
every  aspect  of  her  position,  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  guilt 
could  not  rightly  be  ascribed  to  her.  Nevertheless,  under  the 
influence  of  the  shadow,  she  goes  astray ;  for  every  crime  is  made 
to  be  the  agony  of  many  innocent  persons.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  criminal  act,  committed  for  Miriam's  sake,  by  the  faun-like 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE.       '  169 

Donatello,  kindles  him  into  a  man,  and  the  grief  and  pain  that 
follow  develop  in  him  a  more  definite  and  nobler  individuality. 

"The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables,"  which  followed  the  "Scarlet 
Letter,"  shows  how  the  tendency  of  famihes  to  isolate  themselves 
from  the  race,  and  to  deny  the  humane  instincts  of  the  universal 
human  brotherhood,  results  in  disaster.  It  takes  two  hundred 
years  for  the  crime  which  the  first  Pyncheon  committed  against 
the  first  Maule  to  work  itself  off:  but  at  length  we  see  the  forces 
of  the  general  humanity  overcome  the  inevitable  consequences  of 
one  rampant  individuality,  that  undertook  to  wield  the  thunder- 
bolts of  Omnipotence  against  a  fellow-mortal.  Love,  in  every 
pure  and  unselfish  form,  undoes  the  spell  that  pride  and  pharisee- 
ism  had  laid  upon  the  house  of  Pyncheon  ;  and  the  latest  descend- 
ants of  the  two  enemies '  lay  asleep  the  Fury  of  Retribution  by 
their  marriage. 

In  "The  Blithedale  Romance,"  a  more  familiar  form  of  the 
opposition  between  the  law  of  individuality  and  that  of  our  com- 
mon nature  is  considered.  The  book  is  founded  upon  the  famous 
Brook  Farm  episode,  in  which  were  concerned  some  of  the  lead- 
ing minds  of  New  England  in  1841.  Speculations  had  been  en- 
tertained regarding  the  moral  validity  of  the  marriage-contract  as 
at  present  administered,  and  as  to  whether  the  a  discussion 
family  were  the  true  and  final  basis  of  the  State.  ®^  t^^ 
?he  story  goes  to  show  that  by  adopting  schemes  of  Farm" 
social  organization  based  on  abstractions  of  indi-  experiment. 
vidual  intellects,  we  are  liable  to  immolate  thereto  the  hearts 
of  those  whom  profound  affinity  and  generous  imagination  have 
attracted  to  us.  "Tell  him  he's  murdered  me  !  "  exclaims  Zeno- 
bia,  speaking  of  HoUingsworth  to  Miles  Coverdale.  No  real  phi- 
lanthropy can  result  from  social  action  that  ignores  the  personal 
duties  of  parents,  children,  brothers  and  sisters,  husbands  and 
wives,  lovers  and  friends. 

But  it  is  not  necessary  to  hunt  for  theories  iti  the  mellow  sub- 
stance of  Hawthorne's  artistic  conceptions.  He  himself,  as  we 
know,  had  a  repugnance  to  theories,  and  generally  restricted  him- 
self to  suggestions,  knowing  how  apt  is  truth  to  escape  from  the 


170  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

narrow  limits  of  a  logical  deduction.  He  imagined  a  moral  situa- 
tion, with  characters  to  fit  it,  and  then  permitted  the  theme  to 
develop  in  such  form  as  its  innate  quality  directed,  enriching  its 
roots  and  decorating  its  boughs  with  the  wealth  of  his  experience 
and  meditation.  In  an  ordinary  novel  of  episode,  this  method 
would  not  answer,  for  there  is  no  innate  law  of  development  in 
such  things;  they  are  constructed,  but  do  not  grow;  and,  if  the 
constructive  skill  be  deficient,  they  prove  unsymmetrical.  The 
tree  has  but  to  be  planted,  and  wisely  watched  and  pruned,  and  it 
will  make  good  its  own  excuse  for  being ;  but  the  house  depends 
on  the  builder,  for  the  former,  unlike  the  latter,  has  its  own  life 
A  new  birth  ^^^  design  in  it.  This  is  the  difference  between 
of  Litera-  stories  in  Hawthorne's  vein  and  all  others.  He  is 
^^"'®*  the    most    modern    of    writers ;    he    has    divined  — 

what  few  even  yet  suspect  —  the  new  birth  of  Hterature.  Hith- 
erto, in  fiction,  writers  have  been  content  to  imitate  life ;  but 
such  imitation  has  been  carried  as  near  to  perfection  as  is 
perhaps  possible.  The  next  step  is  a  great  one,  but  —  unless 
we  return  upon  our  tracks,  and  vamp-up  afresh  the  methods  of 
the  past  —  it  cannot  be  shunned.  For  what  lies  beyond  an  imita- 
tion of  life  ?  —  Nothing  more  nor  less  than  life  itself.  Doubtless, 
many  will  be  slow  to  believe  that  a  work  of  imagination  can  be 
exalted  from  an  imitation  of  life  into  life  itself.  But  Shakespeare's 
plays  live,  and  Hawthorne's  romances  are  alive.  A  soul  is  in 
them  :  they  are  conceived  on  the  spiritual  plane.  The  soul,  like 
other  souls,  assumes  a  body;  but  the  body  exists  only  because 
the  soul,  beforehand,  is ;  and  the  latter  is  independent  of  the  for- 
mer. How  this  Hfe  is  to  be  imparted  is  another  question  :  the 
process  can  be  no  easy  one.  He  who  gives  life  can  have  no  life 
save  his  own  to  give.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  note-books,  of  obser- 
vation, of  learning,  of  cleverness.  The  workshops  whence  issue 
works  that  live  is  a  very  interior  chamber ;  and  only  those  who 
have  entered  it  (perhaps  not  even  they)  can  reveal  its  secrets. 

The  day  of  dead  or  galvanized  fiction  is  coming  to  an  end, 
although,  just  at  present,  there  is  a  more  than  ordinary  quantity  of 
cunningly  wrought  images  on  hand.     The  progress  of  the  human 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE.  171 

race  implies  more  than  electricity  and  airships  would  prepare 
us  for.  The  true  conquest  of  matter  by  mind,  being  a  religious 
rather  than  a  scientific  transaction,  will  be  felt  obscurely  and 
vaguely  long  before  it  can  be  explicitly  acknowledged.  But  when- 
ever the  time  of  acknowledgment  comes,  credit  will  be  given  to 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 


172  AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 


IX. 
FROM  HAWTHORNE  TO  BRET  HARTE. 

During  several  years  before  and  after  the  Civil  War,  no  new 
element  entered  into  our  literature.  Many  books,  of  many  kinds, 
were  written ;  and,  viewed  as  a  whole,  they  show  that  American 
writers  were  maturing  in  taste,  and  fully  holding  the  ground  they 
had  gained.  But  no  new  light  broke  upon  the  scene  :  no  symp- 
toms of  an  original  departure  were  visible.  After  the  intellectual 
speculations  and  vagaries  of  the  preceding  generation,  there  en- 
sued, if  not  a  reaction,  at  least  a  pause  ;  and  the  conflict  of  marcli- 
ing  regiments  and  discharging  cannon  took  the  place 
War  period  ^^  warring  minds.  The  Civil  War  was  the  symbol  and 
the  settlement,  on  the  material  plane,  of  the  spiritual 
unrest  of  the  earlier  decades.  And  after  the  last  gun  had  been 
fired,  the  nation  stood  still  for  a  while,  panting  from  the  struggle, 
and  doubtful  what  step  to  take  next. 

The  leading  elder  writers  polished  and  perfected  themselves  on 
lines  already  laid  down ;  the  others  did  what  they  could,  but  knew 
not  precisely  what  to  do.  The  present  dispute  between  Realists 
and  Romanticists  had  not  then  been  invented.  Each  author  fol- 
lowed his  own  whim,  with  no  thought  of  literary  methods,  princi- 
ples, or  progress.  Save  for  half-a-dozen  men  at  the  top,  there  was 
no  money  to  be  made  in  the  profession.  There  was  no  criticism 
to  guide,  restrain,  and  stimulate  new  writers  :  the  very  few  good 
critics  we  had  either  applied  themselves  to  foreign  Hterature,  or 
to  the  works  of  such  native  authors  as  had  obtained  a  European 
reputation.  The  age  of  periodicals  had  scarcely  I  egun,  and  there 
was  no  means  of  reaching  readers  except  by  bound  books,  which 
then,  as  now,  had  to  compete  against  cheap  stolen  goods. 

This  lethargy  brooded  over   American   literature   until   about 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  173 

1870,  when  a  young  man  from  the  West  sent  a  breath  of  freshness 
into  the  atmosphere.  Since  then,  several  new  elements  have 
declared  themselves ;  there  has  been  some  progress,  and  much 
discussion  and  analysis.  If  we  have  as  yet  found  no  very  great 
new  writer,  we  at  least  speculate  as  to  what  he  ought  to  do  when 
he  arrives.  His  work  lies  ready  to  his  hand.  Meanwhile  we  will 
pass  in  review  the  leading  features  of  the  generation  that  is  passing 
away. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes/\i8o9^^  was  the  son  of  Abiel 
Holmes,  a  Harvard  professor  and  a'  historian,  who  was  de- 
scended from  an  English  barrister.  The  first  emigrant  settled 
in  Connecticut.  On  his  mother's  side  he  was  derived  from  Dor- 
othy Quincy,  and  from  the  Wendells,  who  came  from  Friesland. 
Oliver  graduated  from  Harvard  in  1829,  and  afterwards  studied 

law  and  medicine,  spending  three  years  abroad  in  the  ^,        ^,    , 
'    ^  °  -^  Biographical 

pursuit  of  the  latter  profession.     He  took  his  doctor's   of  the 

degree  in  1836,  and  was  made  professor  at  Dartmouth  "American 
three  years  later.  In  1840  he  married,  and  lived  in 
Boston,  where  all  his  children  were  born.  He  resigned  his 
Dartmouth  professorship,  and  practised  as  a  physician  in  Bos- 
ton ;  in  1847  he  became  a  professor  at  Harvard.  Besides  his 
lectures  to  students,  he  became  a  familiar  and  popular  figure 
on  the  lyceum  platform.  In  1857,  "The  Atlantic  Monthly" 
was  begun,  and  Holmes  contributed  to  it  his  "Autocrat  of  the 
Breakfast  Table."  Hitherto  he  had  been  known  as  a  writer  of 
witty  or  patriotic  poems  for  occasions  :  but  this  prose  serial  gave 
him  a  solid  reputation  as  a  humorist,  a  man  of  ideas,  and  a  charm- 
ing writer.  In  1859,  he  published  "Elsie  Venner,"  his  first  novel, 
or  romance;  and  in  1867,  his  second,  "The  Guardian  Angel." 
Meanwhile,  during  the  war,  he  journeyed  to  the  seat  of  hostilities 
to  find  his  son,  Captain  Holmes,  who  had  been  wounded  at  Ball's 
Bluff;  and  the  story  of  this  experience  was  told  in  the  "Atlantic." 
Medicine,  literature,  and  the  labors  imposed  by  his  own  great 
popularity,  kept  him  busy  until  1 884,  when  he  took  another  trip 
abroad,  after  an  interval  of  more  than  half  a  century.     He  was 


174  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

welcomed  there  by  thousands  of  friends  whom  he  had  never  seen. 
Returning  after  three  months'  sojourn,  he  settled  down  to  pass  his 
remaining  years  in  the  house  on  Beacon  Street,  Boston.  There 
has  never  been  a  more  faithful  Bostonian  than  Holmes.  Since 
1 840  he  has  lived  in  that  city  uninterruptedly,  —  of  itself  an 
achievement  of  note. 

Holmes's  temperament  is  mercurial,  without  being  either  fickle 
or  shallow.  The  quickness  of  his  mind  gives  him  wit ;  and  his 
quick  sympathies,  both  pathos  and  humor.  A  harmonious  organ- 
ization renders  him  capable  of  good  poetry ;  and 
m^nt^™^^'^*"  ^'^  ^^^^  ^^^  independent  intellect  has  distinguished 
him  in  science,  and  the  criticism  of  life.  His  intense 
love  of  approbation  arises  not  from  vanity,  but  from  his  desire  to 
be  at  one  with  his  fellow-men.  His  enthusiastic  patriotism  is  the 
outcome  of  the  loyalty  of  his  character,  of  his  devotion  to  high 
ideals,  and  of  his  unswerving  optimism  —  which  last  may  be 
credited  to  his  excellent  powers  of  digestion,  physical  and  mental. 
Holmes  has  opinions  upon  a  great  variety  of  subjects,  and  it  is 
his  delight  to  express  them,  whether  in  speech,  in  prose,  or  in 
rhyme.  He  has  thought  discursively  and  indepen- 
tm7^"*~  dently ;  the  results  of  his  thinking  tend  to  formulate 
themselves  in  epigrammatic  form  :  relations  are 
pointed  out  between  things  apparently  remote,  there  is  a  con- 
stant sparkle  of  wit,  which  never  descends  to  buffoonery,  and 
he  says  a  surprising  number  of  what  are  termed  "  good  things  " 
—  a  feature  in  which  he  has  had  many  imitators,  who  prove 
their  master's  excellence  by  their  own  few  and  partial  successes. 
Some  of  the  effect  of  Holmes's  brilliance  is,  on  the  other  hand, 
lost  by  reason  of  its  frequency :  and  some  of  his  poorest  things 
are,  at  a  hasty  glance,  so  much  like  his  best,  as  to  give  a  feeling 
of  uneasiness  to  the  reader./  Holmes  refreshes  commonplaces 
more  often  than  he  creates  or  discovers ;  and  we  are  oftener 
indebted  to  him  for  refined  amusement  than  for  absolute  infor- 
mation,-   Yet  he  gives  an  abundance  of  both. 

The  greater  part  of  his  writings,  outside  of  his  purely  scientific 
essays,  is  practically  the  autobiography  of  his  mind  and  heart. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  175 

He  wishes  to  teli  all  that  he  feels  and  thinks,  and  to  be  assured 
that  his  audience  agrees   with    him.      He  watches   unconscious 
habits,  characteristic   traits,  and   every-day  occurrences,  and  de- 
picts and  comments  on  them  with  good-humored  acuteness,  often 
enhanced  by  the  promulgation  of  certain  shrewd  theories  of  physi- 
ological and  psychological  life,  evolved  from  his  own  meditations 
and  researches.     It  is  in  the  current  of  every-day  life  that  he  dis-  / 
ports  himself  most  willingly :  nothing  morbid,  far-fetched  or  sin-  ) 
gular  attracts  him,  unless  he  can  reconcile  it  with  established  laws.  \ 
In  "  Elsie  Venner,"  for  example,  the  girl  is  a  sort  of  human  snake  : 
but  Holmes  does  not  rest  until  he  has  made  the  phenomenon ' 
appear  physiologically  plausible.     "  The  Guardian  Angel "  intro- 
duces us  to  another  young  lady  whose  psychological  eccentricities  . 
are  reconciled  with  physiological  facts.     He  always  looks  for  the   i 
obvious  in  the  abstruse,  and  uniformly  finds  it.     Absolute  mystery,   • 
or  the  spiritual  meaning  of  material  events,  has  few  charms  for  { 
him.     Nevertheless,  the  best  poem  he  has  written  — 
"The  Chambered  Nautilus"  —  is  a  graceful  and  ar-   ^ot  deep, 
tistic  piece  of  symboHsm.     No  author  of  Holmes's 
cahbre  has  covered   a   broader   range    in   literature,   or   has    so 
seldom  failed ;   yet,  broad  though  his  range  is,  he  is,  himself, 
not  deep.  'He  is  many-sided,  and  touches  life  at  many  points ; 
but  the  touch,  though  accurate  and  reasonable,  is  light  —  never 
profound,  i  We  are   sensible  of  no  spaces   in   reserve   beneath 
his  surface  :  whatever  there  is  of  him  we  see  at  once.     There 
are  no  surprises  or  problems  in  his  character.     He  is  cheerful, 
vivacious,  kindly,  rational,  shrewd  :  with  a  strong  vein  of  senti- 
ment lying  side  by  side  with  the  keenest  sense  of  the  ridiculous. 
'He  is  not  great ;  but  what  there  is  of  him  is  very  good,  and,  if  his 
writings  afforded  nothing  else  than  pure  and  wholesome  entertain- 
ment, they  afford  so  much  of  that  that  we  owe  him  a  debt.  ,- 
,     Holmes's  representative  poems  are  "The  Constitution,"  "The 
Wonderful  One-Horse  Shay"  and  "The  Chambered   somerepre- 
Nautilus,"  —  the  first  illustrating  his  patriotic   style,   sentative 
the  next  his  comic  humor  and  the  third  his  highest  ^®™^* 
plane  of  sentiment.     "The  Last  Leaf"  is  also  a  chief  favorite 


176  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

among  his  poems,  and  perhaps  no  other  piece  so  good  of  that 
kind  has  been  written.  A  large  part  of  Holmes's  verses  was 
written  to  be  read  at  celebrations,  anniversaries  and  banquets ; 
they  are  excellent  examples  of  that  species  of  rhymed,  witty, 
sentimental  eloquence.  Holmes  is  never  dull,  except  as  too 
constant  liveliness  dulls  the  edge  of  appreciation. 

But  his  most  characteristic  work  is  his  series  of  "Autocrat" 
essays  —  a  narrative,  discursive,  philosophizing,  criticising  mono- 
logue, which  he  invented  for  his  own  use,  and  which  gives  him 
The  "Auto-  untrammelled  opportunity  to  say  whatever  he  wishes 
crat"  in  his  own  way:    the  chapters  are  lay  sermons,  de- 

Series,  lightful  to  read,  which  stop  just  short  of  being  great. 

The  writer  has  his  own  way  of  saying  as  well  as  of  thinking 
things ;  but  the  method  more  often  than  the  material  is  new. 
He  changes  the  disposition  of  the  furniture  of  our  minds,  with- 
out changing  the  furniture  itself.  He  gives  a  new  flavor  to 
our  ideas,  without  opening  to  us  a  world  of  ideas  hitherto 
unexplored.  His  character-drawing  is  graphic,  and  he  has  a 
sharp  ear  for  idioms  and  intonations  of  speech.  He  penetrates 
as  far  into  human  nature  as  common-sense,  sympathetic  intel- 
ligence and  apposite  learning  can  take  him ;  and  the  general 
result  of  his  disquisitions  is  to  simpHfy  and  brighten  our  concep- 
tion of  men  and  things. 

"The  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table"  appeared  in  1858, 
"The  Professor  at  the  Breakfast  Table"  in  1859,  and  "The  Poet 
at  the  Breakfast  Table"  in  1873.  Holmes  also  wrote  biographies 
of  Motley  and  of  Emerson ;  model  records  of  fact  and  character, 
but  not  interpretive  or  intuitive.  Of  late  years  he  has  contributed 
to  the  "  Atlantic "  other  series  of  papers  more  or  less  in  the 
"Autocrat"  vein;  "Over  the  Teacups"  is  the  latest.  The  hst 
of  his  scientific  writings  is  long  and  creditable.  Holmes  writes 
from  external  stimulus  more  than  from  interior  inspiration  :  to  the 
public  rather  than  to  himself;  but  he  is  always  as  good  as  we 
expect  him  to  be,  and  pften  better.  / 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  177 

Selections  and  Exercises. 

OLD   IRONSIDES. 

Ay,  tear  her  tattered  ensign  down  ! 

Long  has  it  waved  on  high, 
And  many  an  eye  has  danced  to  see 

That  banner  in  the  sky ; 
Beneath  it  rung  the  battle  shout. 

And  burst  the  cannon's  roar ;  — 
The  meteor  of  the  ocean  air 

Shall  sweep  the  clouds  no  more  ! 

Her  deck,  once  red  with  heroes'  blood, 

Where  knelt  the  vanquished  foe, 
When  winds  were  hurrying  o'er  the  flood, 

And  waves  were  white  below. 
No  more  shall  feel  the  victor's  tread, 

Or  know  the  conquered  knee  ;  — 
The  harpies  of  the  shore  shall  pluck 

The  eagle  of  the  sea ! 

O  better  that  her  shattered  hulk 

Should  sink  beneath  the  wave  ; 
Her  thunders  shook  the  mighty  deep. 

And  there  should  be  her  grave  ; 
Nail  to  the  mast  her  holy  flag,     . 

Set  every  threadbare  sail, 
And  give  her  to  the  god  of  storms. 

The  lightning  and  the  gale  ! 

What  was  the  occasion  of  this  poem  ?    What  eflect  did  it  have  ? 

THE   LAST   LEAF. 

I  saw  him  once  before. 
As  he  passed  by  the  door. 
And  again 


178  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

The  pavement  stones  resound, 
As  he  totters  o'er  the  ground 
With  his  cane. 

They  say  that  in  his  prime, 
Ere  the  pruning-knife  of  Time 

Cut  him  down, 
Not  a  better  man  was  found 
By  the  Crier  on  his  round 

Through  the  town. 

But  now  he  walks  the  streets, 
And  he  looks  at  all  he  meets 

Sad  and  wan. 
And  he  shakes  his  feeble  head, 
That  it  seems  as  if  he  said, 

"  They  are  gone." 

The  mossy  marbles  rest 
On  the  lips  that  he  has  prest 

In  their  bloom. 
And  the  names  he  loved  to  hear 
Have  been  carved  for  many  a  year 

On  the  tomb. 

My  grandmamma  has  said  — 
Poor  old  lady,  she  is  dead 

Long  ago  — 
That  he  had  a  Roman  nose. 
And  his  cheek  was  like  a  rose 

In  the  snow. 

But  how  his  nose  is  thin. 
And  it  rests  upon  his  chin 

Like  a  staff, 
And  a  crook  is  in  his  back. 
And  a  melancholy  crack 

In  his  laugh. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  179 

I  know  it  is  a  sin 
For  me  to  sit  and  grin 

At  him  here ; 
But  the  old  three-cornered  hat, 
And  the  breeches,  and  all  that, 

Are  so  queer. 

And  if  I  should  live  to  be 
The  last  leaf  upon  the  tree 

In  the  spring, 
Let  them  smile,  as  I  do  now, 
At  the  old  forsaken  bough 

Where  I  cling. 

What  is  the  "Last  Leaf"?  What  has  become  of  his  friends? 
What  is  the  use  of  the  reference  to  his  "grandmamma"?  What 
signs  of  old  age  does  he  bear?  Does  the  poet  think  himself  cul- 
pable for  making  sport  of  him  ? 

THE  COMET. 

The  Comet !     He  is  on  his  way, 

And  singing  as  he  flies  ; 
The  whizzing  planets  shrink  before 

The  spectre  of  the  skies ; 
Ah  !  well  may  regal  orbs  burn  blue. 

And  satellites  turn  pale. 
Ten  milHon  cubic  miles  of  head. 

Ten  billion  leagues  of  tail ! 

On,  on  by  whistling  spheres  of  light 

He  flashes  and  he^  flames ; 
He  turns  not  to  the  left  nor  right, 

He  asks  them  not  their  names ; 
One  spurn  from  his  demoniac  heel,  — 

Away,  away  they  fly, 
Where  darkness  might  be  bottled  up 

And  sold  for  "Tyrian  dye." 


180  ,  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

And  what  would  happen  to  the  land, 

And  how  would  look  the  sea, 
If  in  the  bearded  devil's  path 

Our  earth  should  chance  to  be  ? 
Full  hot  and  high  the  sea  would  boil. 

Full  red  the  forests  gleam  ; 
Methought  I  saw  and  heard  it  all 

In  a  dyspeptic  dream  ! 

I  saw  a  tutor  take  his  tube 

The  Comet's  course  to  spy ; 
I  heard  a  scream,  —  the  gathered  rays 

Had  stewed  the  tutor's  eye ; 
I  saw  a  fort, — the  soldiers  all 

Were  armed  with  goggles  green ; 
Pop  cracked  the  guns  !  whiz  flew  the  balls  ! 

Bang  went  the  magazine  ! 

I  saw  a  poet  dip  a  scroll 

Each  moment  in  a  tub, 
I  read  upon  the  warping  back, 

"The  Dream  of  Beelzebub  "  ; 
He  could  not  see  his  verses  burn, 

Although  his  brain  was  fried, 
And  ever  and  anon  he  bent 

To  wet  them  as  they  dried. 

I  saw  the  scalding  pitch  roll  down 

The  crackhng,  sweating  pines. 
And  streams  pf  smoke,  like  water-spouts, 

Burst  through  the  rumbling  mines ; 
I  asked  the  firemen  why  they  made 

Such  noise  about  the  town ; 
They  answered  not,  —  but  all  the  while 

The  brakes  went  up  and  down. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRET  HARTE.  181 

I  saw  a  roasting  pullet  sit 

Upon  a  baking  Qgg ; 
I  saw  a  cripple  scorch  his  hand  ^ 

Extinguishing  his  leg ; 
I  saw  nine  geese  upon  the  wing 

Towards  the  frozen  pole, 
And  every  mother's  gosling  fell 
'     Crisped  to  a  crackHng  coal. 

I  saw  the  ox  that  browsed  the  grass 

Writhe  in  the  blistering  rays, 
The  herbage  in  his  shrinking  jaws 

Was  all  a  fiery  blaze  ; 
I  saw  huge  fishes,  boiled  to  rags, 

Bob  through  the  bubbling  brine  ; 
And  thoughts  of  supper  crossed  my  soul ; 

I  had  been  rash  at  mine. 

Strange  sights  !  strange  sounds  !  O  fearful  dream  ! 

Its  memory  haunts  me  still, 
The  steaming  sea,  the  crimson  glare. 

That  wreathed  each  wooded  hill ; 
Stranger  !  if  through  thy  reeling  brain 

Such  midnight  visions  sweep. 
Spare,  spare,  O,  spare  thine  evening  meal. 

And  sweet  shall  be  thy  sleep  ! 

How  big  is  it  ?  Describe  its  course.  What  is  the  disaster  that 
occurs  ?  What  effect  does  it  have  on  the  earth  ?  What  was  the 
cause  of  this  lurid  vision  ? 

LEXINGTON. 

Slowly  the  mist  o'er  the  meadow  was  creeping. 
Bright  on  the  dewy  buds  glistened  the  sun. 

When  from  his  couch,  while  his  children  were  sleeping, 
Rose  the  bold  rebel  and  shouldered  his  gun. 


182  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Waving  her  golden  veil 
Over  the  silent  dale, 
^Blithe  looked  the  morning  on  cottage  and  spire ; 
Hushed  was  his  parting  sigh, 
While  from  his  noble  eye 
Flashed  the  last  sparkle  of  liberty's  fire. 

On  the  smooth  green  where  the  fresh  leaf  is  springing, 

Calmly  the  first-born  of  glory  have  met ; 
Hark  !  the  death-volley  around  them  is  ringing  ! 
Look  !  with  their  life-blood  the  young  grass  is  wet ! 

Faint  is  the  feeble  breath, 

Murmuring  low  in  death, 
"  Tell  to  our  sons  how  their  fathers  have  died  "  ; 

Nerveless  the  iron  hand, 

Raised  for  its  native  land, 
Lies  by  the  weapon  that  gleams  at  its  side. 

Over  the  hillsides  the  wild  knell  is  tolling. 

From  their  far  hamlets  the  yeomanry  come  ; 
As  through  the  storm-clouds  the  thunder-burst  rolling, 
Circles  the  beat  of  the  mustering  drum. 

Fast  on  the  soldier's  path 

Darken  the  waves  of  wrath. 
Long  have  they  gathered  and  loud  shall  they  fall ; 

Red  glares  the  musket's  flash. 

Sharp  rings  the  rifle's  cr^sh, 
Blazing  and  clanging  from  thicket  and  wall. 

Gayly  the  plume  of  the  horseman  was  dancing, 

Never  to  shadow  his  cold  brow  again ; 
Proudly  at  morning  the  war-steed  was  prancing, 
Reeking  and  panting  he  droops  on  the  rein ; 
Pale  is  the  lip  of  scorn. 
Voiceless  the  trumpet  horn. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRET  HARTE.  183 

Torn  is  the  silken- fringed  red  cross  on  high ; 

Many  a  belted  breast 

Low  on  the  turf  shall  rest, 
Ere  the  dark  hunters  the  herd  have  passed  by. 

Snow-girdled  crags  where  the  hoarse  wind  is  raving, 

Rocks  where  the  weary  floods  murmur  and  wail. 
Wilds  where  the  fern  by  the  furrow  is  waving, 
Reeled  with  the  echoes  that  rode  on  the  gale ; 
Far  as  the  tempest  thrills 
Over  the  darkened  hills, 
Far  as  the  sunshine  streams  over  the  plain, 
Roused  by  the  tyrant  band. 
Woke  all  the  mighty  land. 
Girded  for  battle,  from  mountain  to  main. 

Green  be  the  graves  where  her  martyrs  are  lying  ! 

Shroudless  and  tombless  they  sunk  to  their  rest,  — 
While  o'er  their  ashes  the  starry  folds  flying 

Wraps  the  proud  eagle  they  roused  from  his  nest. 

Borne  on  her  Northern  pine. 

Long  o'er  the  foaming  brine 
Spread  her  broad  banner  to  storm  and  to  sun ; 

Heaven  keep  her  ever  free. 

Wide  as  o'er  land  and  sea 
Floats  the  fair  emblem  her  heroes  have  won  ! 

Under  what  circumstances  does  the  rebel  shoulder  his  gun? 
What  was  his  fate  ?  What  was  the  effect  of  his  fate  ?  How  do 
these  heroes  take  their  rest  ?     For  what  does  the  poet  ask  ? 

THE   HOT  SEASON. 

The  folks,  that  on  the  first  of  May 

Wore  winter  coats  and  hose, 
Began  to  say,  the  first  of  June, 

"  Good  Lord  !  how  hot  it  grows  !  " 


184  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

At  last  two  Fahrenheits  blew  up, 
And  killed  two  children  small, 

And  one  barometer  shot  dead 
A  tutor  with  its  ball ! 

Now  ail  day  long  the  locusts  sang 

Among  the  leafless  trees  ; 
Three  new  hotels  warped  inside  out, 

The  pumps  could  only  wheeze  ; 
And  ripe  old  wine,  that  twenty  years 

Had  cobwebbed  o'er  in  vain. 
Came  spouting  through  the  rotten  corks 

Like  Joly's  best  Champagne  ! 

The  Worcester  locomotives  did 

Their  trip  in  half  an  hour ; 
The  Lowell  cars  ran  forty  miles 

Before  they  checked  the  power ; 
Roll  brimstone  soon  became  a  drug, 

And  loco-focos  fell ; 
All  asked  for  ice,  but  everywhere 

Saltpetre  was  to  sell. 

Plump  men  of  mornings  ordered  tights, 

But,  ere  the  scorching  noons. 
Their  candle-moulds  had  grown  as  loose 

As  Cossack  pantaloons  ! 
The  dogs  ran  mad,  —  men  could  not  try 

If  water  they  would  choose  ; 

A  horse  fell  dead,  —  he  only  left 

Four  red-hot,  rusty  shoes  ! 

But  soon  the  people  could  not  bear 
The  slightest  hint  of  fire  ; 

Allusions  to  caloric  drew 
A  flood  of  savage  ire ; 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRET  HARTE.  185 

The  leaves  on  heat  were  all  torn  out 

From  every  book  at  school, 
And  many  blackguards  kicked  and  caned 

Because  they  said,  "  Keep  cool  ! " 

The  gas-hght  companies  were  mobbed. 

The  bakers  all  were  shot, 
The  penny  press  began  to  talk 

Of  lynching  Doctor  Nott ; 
And  all  about  the  warehouse  steps 

Were  angry  men  in  droves, 
Crashing  and  splintering  through  the  doors 

To  smash  the  patent  stoves  ! 

The  abolition  men  and  maids 

Were  tanned  to  such  a  hue, 
You  scarce  could  tell  them  from  their  friends, 

Unless  their  eyes  were  blue ; 
And,  when  I  left,  society 

Had  burst  its  ancient  guards, 
And  Bratde  Street  and  Temple  Place 

Were  interchanging  cards  ! 

Note  each  point  in  this  lively  extravagance  and  determine  the 
exaggeration. 

General.  —  How  many  of  the  poems  were,  written  for  public 
occasions  ?  What  were  some  of  the  occasions  ?  What  narrative 
poems  do  you  find?  What  poems  upon  patriotic  themes?  What 
poem  do  you  consider  the  most  humorous  ?  Analyze  its  humor. 
Compare  the  poems  upon  slavery  with  those  of  Whittier  aijd 
Lowell  upon  the  same  subject.  What  Yankee  traits  do  you  find  ? 
What  national  traits?  Do  you  find  metrical  variety?  Metrical 
skill? 

James  Russell  Lowell  (1819-/^^/ Cambridge  was  Lowell's 
birthplace  :  he  graduated  from  Har;«4rd  in  the  class  of  '2>^,  and 
two  years  afterwards  was  admitted  to  the  bar.     But  literature  was 


186  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

his  chosen  calling.     His  early  poems  were  published  in  1841  ;  a 

magazine,  "The  Pioneer,"  founded  by  him  in  1843,  lived  through 

three  numbers.     He  took  the  anti-slavery  side   in   politics   the 

following  year,  and  during  four  years  thereafter  worked  in  both 

verse  and  prose,  with  results  not  now  important.     But  in  1 848  he 

published  the  three  poems  which  gave  him  his  reputation,  and 

which  are  in  some  respects  not  inferior  to  anything 

3?fr/^'"^^     he  has  done  since.     They  were  "The  Vision  of  Sir 
poems.  ■' 

Launfal,"  "The  Fable  for  Critics  "  and  "The  Biglow 
Papers,"  —  opening,  respectively,  the  fields  of  romantic  and 
religious  sentiment,  of  literary  criticism  and  of  political  satire. 

He  visited  Europe  in  1851  and  in  1855,  returning  to  fill  the 
chair  of  Modern  Languages  at  Harvard.  He  was  first  editor  of 
"The  Atlantic  Monthly,"  in  1857.  In  1863,  began  h;s  connection 
with  "The  North  American  Review,"  lasting  ten  years.  The 
essays  on  literature  and  life  that  he  contributed  to  this  periodical 

were  published  in  three  volumes  —  "  Fireside  Travels," 
duction^"       "  Among  my  Books,"  and  "  My  Study  Windows."     In 

1877,  he  was  appointed  minister  to  Spain,  and  was 
transferred,  in  1880,  to  the  Court  of  St.  James.  "  Democracy 
and  Other  Essays "  comprise  addresses  delivered  during  the 
years  of  his  official  duties.  During  the  Civil  War  he  published 
another  series  of  "  Biglow  Papers,"  and  at  its  close,  in  1865, 
recited  "The  Commemoration  Ode,"  his  loftiest  and  most  beauti- 
ful poem.  "  Under  the  Willows  "  and  "  The- Cathedral "  appeared 
in  1869,  and  "Memorial  Poems"  in  1876. 

Lowell's  mind  is  of  masculine  fibre,  clear  in  perception  and 
strong  in  grasp.  His  nature  has  a  vein  of  coarseness,  which  ap- 
pears occasionally  in  his  writings,  but  which,  ordinarily,  only  serves 
to  give  character  and  flavor  to  his  culture.     Th^-^trong^  cour-^ 

ageous,  explicit  temperament  of  the  man  _  shoas 
uauty*'  throu^h_alLiie._has_written^  in   its   least   favorable 

manifestations  it  gives  an  impression  of  self-con- 
sciousness ;  at  its  best,  it  imparts  individuality,  independence,  and 
fife.  A  certain  impatience  of  disposition  sometimes  makes  him 
chargeable  with  haste  and  carelessness ;  but  it  is  also  connected 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  187 

with  the  fire  and  force  and  sturdy  ardor  that  become  contagious 
in  his  loftier  work. 

He  is  reserved,  and  often  consciously  self- restrained ;  but  he 
has  a  hearty,  humorous  sympathy  with  human  nature,  and  can 
give  vigorous  and  sagacious  interpretations  of  even  its  ruder  and 
homelier  traits.  A  measure  of  intuitive  insight,  combined  with 
shrewd  appreciation,  is  shown  in  the  careless  jingles  of  his  "  Fable 
for  Critics."  His  sense  of  beauty,  in  nature  and  in  art,  is  keen 
and  ingrained,  and  has  been  developed  by  study.  It  gives  grace 
to  both  his  poetry  and  his  prose ;  while  his  graver  thoughts  about 
life  impart  a  spirituality  of  view  to  his  descriptions  and  interpreta- 
tions. He  is  never  abstract  and  metaphysical,  like  Emerson,  but 
he  in  a  measure  accepts  Emerson's  standpoint.  He 
sees  life  whole,  and  with  a  moderate,  judicious  op-  ^j beauty 
timism.  He  more  enjoys  the  concrete  than  the  spirit- 
ual, if  he  must  choose  between  the  two :  and  in  this  he  is  wise, 
because  his  foot  and  hand  are  not  light  enough  for  the  pure 
spiritual  region,  and  he  is  never  more  perfunctory  than  when 
he  pays  a  visit  to  it.  The  incarnate  spirit  he  welcomes,  because 
he  sees  that  it  adds  beauty  and  scope  to  the  subject.  But  there 
is  a  solid  basis  of  human  earth  in  him ;  and  wherever  his  head 
may  be,  his  feet  are  always  among  the  terrestrial  roots  of  things. 

There  is  imagination  in  Lowell :  it  is  not  of  the  subHme  order, 
but  it  is  enough  to  bestow  interest  and  splendor  upon  his  work. 
Like  his  sense  of  beauty,  it  has  been  cultivated,  and,  like  all  cul- 
tivated things,  it  occasionally  lacks  spontaneity.     His  familiarity 
with  the  best  literature  shows  him  where  the  imagina- 
tive touch  is  required ;  and  he  will  put  on  that  touch,   ^ati^nf" 
whether  it  comes  from  his  heart  or  from   his  head. 
Indeed,  the  threads  of  Lowell's  reading  appear  in  the  web  of  all 
that   he    has  written;    he   is  only  too   rich    in   literary  allusions 
and  illustrations :    he  can  see  nothing  in  nature,  or  in  his  own 
mind,  that  does  not  remind  him  of  something  in  a  book.     Origi- 
nal he  is  not :  but  the  sum  of  civilized  experience  and  learning 
is  in  his  words,  and  gives  them  point  and  impetus.     But  he  has 
assimilated  his  studies ;  they  have  become  organic  in  his  being ; 


188  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

they  are  in  the  tones  of  his  voice  and  the  look  of  his  eyes. 
He  resists  their  mastery,  and  fairly  masters  them  —  which  he 
could  not  have  done  had  his  temperament  and  physical  nature 
been  less  powerful.  His  lusty  sensuous  impulses,  healthy  and 
catholic,  avail,  when  he  gives  them  rein,  to  counterbalance  his 
culture  :  he  can  speak  in  the  voice  of  mankind,  as  well  as  of 
scholars.  And  in  the  long  run,  it  will  be  to  the  natural  and  not 
to  the  acquired  voice  that  the  world  will  more  willingly  listen. 

His  poems,  and  often  his  prose,  have  single  lines  or  passages 
which  are  striking  and  memorable ;  a  fact  indicative  of  talent 
rather  than  of  inspiration,  for  the  high  level  is  never  uniform  in 
anything  that  he  has  written.     He  soars  aloft,  but  drops  again, 

and  his  average  flight  is  not  sublime.     His  position 
A  man  of  t  e  j^g^gj.  j^^g  ^^  loneliness  or  detachment  of  genius ;  he 

is  careful  not  to  lose  touch  with  the  cultivated  human 

mind  :  he  wishes  to  appear  aUied  with  the  results  of  culture,  and 

not  solitary.     The  awful  abyss  of  unrelated  space,  in  which  spirits 

like  Milton,  Dante,  and  Coleridge  delighted  to  lose  themselves, 

has    few    attractions   for   him.  '   Wherever   he   goes,  he   carries 

with  him  the  air  and  diction  of  a  man  of  the  world  :  we  feel 

that  the  library  and  the  drawing-room  are  not  far  off,  even  when 

he  is  in  his  most  rural  or  exalted  vein.     He  is  strong,  but  not 

quite  strong  enough  to  abrogate  his  human  strength,  and  yield 

himself  to  the  influx  of  the  Divine.  ^__ ^ ^ 

The  wide  success  of  his  "  Biglow  Papers  "  gave  him,  for  many 

years,  the   not  altogether   enviable   reputation   of  an   American 

humorist.      No  such   faithful  and  humorous  presen- 
The  ' '  Big-  ^ 

low  Papers"   tation   of  Yankee   traits   and   dialect   has   elsewhere 

and  other  ^gen  made :  and  the  sustained  vigor  with  which 
poems.  '  . 

Hosea's    character    is    maintained,    is    enough,    even 

without  the  pungency  of  the  accompanying  satire,  to  establish  a 

reputation.     It  was  a  fortunate  conception,  because  no  such  thing 

had  been  done  before,  nor  is  ever  likely  to  be  attempted  again  : 

it  is  as  unique  as  Longfellow's  "  Hiawatha,"  though  so  difl"erent 

from  it  in  other  respects.    But  its  grotesqueness  —  its  utter  lack  of 

beauty  —  makes  one  half  regret  its  notoriety :  for  a  great  deal  of 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  189 

what  is  best  and  most  charming  in  Lowell  has  no  representation 
in  these  verses ;  yet  it  is  with  them,  more  than  with  any  of  his 
loftier  poems,  that  he  is  likely  to  be  identified.  The  ''  Legend  of 
Brittany"  and  the  "Vision  of  Sir  Launfal "  are  lovely  in  senti- 
ment, description  and  workmanship ;  but  they  are  not  so  separate 
in  conception  as  to  be  called  original.  The  "  Harvard  Commem- 
oration Ode  "  is  strong,  rich  and  massive,  sparkling  with  gems  of 
thought,  and  rising  high  in  pinnacles  of  poetic  beauty ;  but  it  can 
hardly  be  regarded  as  characteristic  of  Lowell,  in  the  sense  that 
"  Thanatopsis  "  is  characteristic  of  Bryant,  or  "  The  Psalm  of 
Life,"  of  Longfellow;  or  "The  Haunted  Palace,"  of  Poe.  It  is 
constructed,  it  is  not  born.  In  fact,  beautiful  and  edifying  though 
much  of  Lowell's  poetry  is,  he  is  a  poet  by  choice  and  training 
rather  than  inevitably.  He  can  not  only  find  expression  in  other 
ways,  but  it  is  a  question  whether,  were  we  obliged  to  choose 
between  losing  his  poetry,  or  his  prose,  we  might  not  decide  to 
forego  the  former  rather  than  the  latter. 

Certainly,  his  critical  writings  have  a  great  and  enduring  value. 
They  are  at  once  subtle  and  masculine,  independent  and  acute. 
He  writes  from  a  profound  knowledge  of  the  best  literary  product 
of  the  ^yorld,  and  from  ripe  and  sane  meditation 
thereupon.  His  poetical  temperament  gives  vivacity  ^^1^^^^^^ 
and  a  creative  touch  to  his  conclusions.  His  liter- 
ary experience  enables  him  to  detect  a  counterfeit  at  a  glance, 
and  to  perceive  the  emptiness  underlying  formulas  and  conven- 
tionalities. And  so  radically  an  American  is  he,  that  all  the 
erudition  of  Europe,  and  of  antiquity,  have  not  availed  to  corrupt 
him  one  jot :  nay,  his  steadfast  native  quality  gives  his  judgments 
of  alien  things  a  worth  and  significance  that  would  otherwise 
be  lacking  in  them.  He  has  studied  the  past,  but  he  looks 
towards  the  future.  He  believes  that  these  United  States  have 
made  successful  trial  of  the  most  important  of  national  experi- 
ments. And  so  far  as  love  of  freedom,  catholicity  of  interests, 
and  sagacious  optimism,  conveyed  in  cultivated  literary  forms, 
can  entitle  a  writer  to  renown,  that  renown  belongs  to  Lowell. 
Of  all  our  living  writers  of  pure  literature,  he  is  to-day  the  most 
distinguished. 


190  AMERICAN  LITER  A  TURE. 

Selections  and  Exercises. 
ODE. 

READ   AT   THE  ONE    HUNDREDTH    ANNIVERSARY    OF   THE    FIGHT  AT    CONCORD 

BRIDGE. 

19TH  April,  1875. 

I. 

Who  Cometh  over  the  hills, 

Her  garments  with  morning  sweet, 

The  dance  of  a  thousand  rills 

Making  music  before  her  feet? 

Her  presence  freshens  the  air ; 

Sunshine  steals  light  from  her  face ; 

The  leaden  footstep  of  Care 

Leaps  to  the  tune  of  her  pace, 

Fairness  of  all  that  is  fair, 

Grace  at  the  heart  of  all  grace,  • 

Sweetener  of  hut  and  of  hall, 

Bringer  of  life  out  of  naught, 

Freedom,  O,  fairest  of  all 

The  daughters  of  Time  and  Thought ! 


She  Cometh,  cometh  to-day  : 
Hark  !  hear  ye  not  her  tread, 
Sending  a  thrill  through  your  clay, 
Under  the  sod  there,  ye  dead, 
Her  nurshngs  and  champions  ? 
Do  ye  not  hear,  as  she  comes. 
The  bay  of  the  deep-mouthed  guns. 
The  gathering  buzz  of  the  drums  ? 
The  bells  that  called  ye  to  prayer. 
How  wildly  they  clamor  on  her. 
Crying,  "  She  cometh  !  prepare 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRET  HARTE.  191 

Her  to  praise  and  her  to  honor, 
That  a  hundred  years  ago 
Scattered  here  in  blood  and  tears 
Potent  seeds  wherefrom  should  grow 
Gladness  for  a  hundred  years  !  " 

ni. 

Tell  me,  young  men,  have  ye  seen, 

Creature  of  diviner  mien 

For  true  hearts  to  long  and  cry  for. 

Manly  hearts  to  live  and  die  for  ? 

What  hath  she  that  others  want  ? 

Brows  that  all  endearments  haunt. 

Eyes  that  make  it  sweet  to  dare, 

Smiles  that  glad  untimely  death. 

Looks  that  fortify  despair. 

Tones  more  brave  than  trumpet's  breath ; 

Tell  me,  maidens,  have  ye  known 

Household  charm  more  sweetly  rare, 

Grace  of  woman  ampler  blown. 

Modesty  more  debonair, 

Younger  heart  with  wit  full  grown  ? 

O  for  an  hour  of  my  prime, 

The  pulse  of  my  hotter  years, 

That  I  might  praise  her  in  rhyme 

Would  tingle  your  eyelids  to  tears, 

Our  sweetness,  our  strength,  and  our  star, 

Our  hope,  our  joy,  and  our  trust. 

Who  lifted  us  out  of  the  dust. 

And  made  us  whatever  we  are  ! 


Whiter  than  moonshine  upon  snow 
Her  raiment  is,  but  round  the  hem 
Crimson  stained  ;  and,  as  to  and  fro 
Her  sandals  flash,  we  see  on  them. 


192  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

And  on  her  instep  veined  with  blue, 

Flecks  of  crimson,  on  those  fair  feet,^ 

High-arched,  Diana-like,  and  fleet. 

Fit  for  no  grosser  stain  than  dew  : 

O,  call  them  rather  chrisms  than  stains, 

Sacred  and  from  heroic  veins  ! 

For,  in  the  glory-guarded  pass, 

Her  haughty  and  far-shining  head 

She  bowed  to  shrive  Leonidas 

With  his  imperishable  dead ; 

Her,  too,  Morgarten  saw, 

Where  the  Swiss  Hon  fleshed  his  icy  paw ; 

She  followed  Cromwell's  quenchless  star 

Where  the  grim  Puritan  tread 

Shook  Marston,  Naseby,  and  Dunbar : 

Yea,  on  her  feet  are  dearer  dyes 

Yet  fresh,  nor  looked  on  with  untearful  eyes. 


Our  fathers  found  her  in  the  woods 

Where  Nature  meditates  and  broods, 

The  seeds  of  unexampled  things 

Which  Time  to  consummation  brings 

Through  Hfe  and  death  and  man's  unstable  moods ; 

They  met  her  here,  not  recognized, 

A  sylvan  huntress  clothed  in  furs. 

To  whose  chaste  wants  her  bow  sufficed, 

Nor  dreamed  what  destinies  were  hers  : 

She  taught  them  bee-like  to  create 

Their  simpler  forms  of  Church  and  State ; 

She  taught  them  to  endue 

The  past  with  other  functions  than  it  knew, 

And  turn  in  channels  strange  the  uncertain  stream  of  Fate ; 

Better  than  all,  she  fenced  them  in  their  need 

With  iron-handed  Duty's  sternest  creed, 

'Gainst  Self  s  lean  wolf  that  ravens  word  and  deed. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  193 

VI. 

Why  Cometh  she  hither  to-day 

To  this  low  village  of  the  plain 

Far  from  the  Present's  loud  highway, 

From  Trade's  cool  heart  and  seething  brain? 

Why  Cometh  she  ?     She  was  not  far  away. 

Since  the  soul  touched  it,  not  in  vain, 

With  pathos  of  immortal  gain, 

'Tis  here  her  fondest  memories  stay. 

She  loves  yon  pine-bemurmured  ridge 

Where  now  our  broad-browed  poet  sleeps, 

Dear  to  both  Englands  ;  near  him  he 

Who  wore  the  ring  of  Canace  ; 

But  most  her  heart  to  rapture  leaps 

Where  stood  that  era-parting  bridge. 

O'er  which,  with  footfall  still  as  dew, 

The  Old  Time  passed  into  the  New ; 

Where,  as  your  stealthy  river  creeps, 

He  whispers  to  his  Hstening  weeds 

Tales  of  sublimest  homespun  deeds. 

Here  English  law  and  English  thought 

'Gainst  the  self-will  of  England  fought ; 

And  here  were  men  (coequal  with  their  fate). 

Who  did  great  things,  unconscious  they  were  great. 

They  dreamed  not  what  a  die  was  cast 

With  that  first  answering  shot ;  what  then  ? 

There  was  their  duty  ;  they  were  men 

Schooled  the  soul's  inward  gospel  to  obey, 

Though  leading  to  the  lion's  den. 

They  felt  the  habit- hallowed  world  give  way 

Beneath  their  lives,  and  on  went  they. 

Unhappy  who  was  last. 

When  Buttrick  gave  the  word. 

That  awful  idol  of  the  unchallenged  Past, 

Strong  in  their  love,  and  in  their  lineage  strong, 

Fell  crashing  :  if  they  heard  it  not, 


194  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Yet  the  earth  heard, 

Nor  ever  hath  forgot, 

As  on  from  startled  throne  to  throne, 

Where  Superstition  sate  or  conscious  Wrong, 

A  shudder  ran  of  some  dread  birth  unknown. 

Thrice  venerable  spot ! 

River  more  fateful  than  the  Rubicon  ! 

O'er  those  red  planks,  to  snatch  her  diadem, 

Man's  Hope,  star-girdled,  sprang  with  them. 

And  over  ways  untried  the  feet  of  Doom  strode  on. 


Think  you  these  felt  no  charms 

In  their  gray  homesteads  and  embowered  farms  ? 

In  household  faces  waiting  at  the  door 

Their  evening  step  should  lighten  up  no  more  ? 

In  fields  their  boyish  feet  had  known? 

In  trees  their  fathers'  hands  had  set. 

And  which  with  them  had  grown, 

Widening  each  year  their  leafy  coronet  ? 

Felt  they  no  pang  of  passionate  regret 

For  those  unsolid  goods  that  seem  so  much  our  own? 

These  things  are  dear  to  every  man  that  lives. 

And  life  prized  more  for  what  it  lends  than  gives. 

Yea,  many  a  tie,  by  iteration  sweet. 

Strove  to  detain  their  fatal  feet ; 

And  yet  the  enduring  half  they  chose, 

Whose  choice  decides  a  man  life's  slave  or  king, 

The  invisible  things  of  God  before  the  seen  and  known 

Therefore  their  memory  inspiration  blows 

With  echoes  gathering  on  from  zone  to  zone ; 

For  manhood  is  the  one  immortal  thing 

Beneath  Time's  changeful  sky, 

And,  where  it  lightened  once,  from  age  to  age. 

Men  come  to  learn,  in  grateful  pilgrimage, 

That  length  of  days  is  knowing  when  to  die. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO   BRET  HARTE.  195 


What  marvellous  change  of  things  and  men  ! 
She,  a  wo  rid- wandering  orphan  then, 
So  mighty  now  !     Those  are  her  streams 
That  whirl  the  myriad,  myriad  wheels 
Of  all  that  does,  and  all  that  dreams. 
Of  all  that  thinks,  and  all  that  feels. 
Through  spaces  stretched  from  sea  to  sea ; 
By  idle  tongues  and  busy  brains. 
By  who  doth  right,  and  who  refrains, 
Hers  are  our  losses  and  our  gains ; 
Our  maker  and  our  victim  she. 

IX. 

Maiden  half  mortal,  half  divine, 

We  triumphed  in  thy  coming  -,  to  the  brinks 

Our  hearts  were  filled  with  pride's  tumultuous  wine ; 

Better  to-day  who  rather  feels  than  thinks. 

Yet  will  some  graver  thoughts  intrude, 

And  cares  of  sterner  mood  ; 

They  won  thee  :  who  shall  keep  thee  ?     From  the  deeps 

Where  discrowned  empires  o'er  their  ruins  brood. 

And  many  a  thwarted  hope  wrings  its  weaks  hand  and  weeps, 

I  hear  the  voice  as  of  a  mighty  wind 

From  all  heaven's  caverns  rushing  unconfined, 

"  I,  Freedom,  dwell  with  Knowledge  :  I  abide 

With  men  whom  dust  of  faction  cannot  blind 

To  the  slow  tracings  of  the  Eternal  Mind ; 

With  men  by  culture  trained  and  fortified, 

Who  bitter  duty  to  sweet  lusts  prefer. 

Fearless  to  counsel  and  obey. 

Conscience  my  sceptre  is,  and  law  my  sword. 

Not  to  be  drawn  in  passion  or  in  play. 

But  terrible  to  punish  and  deter ; 

Implacable  as  God's  word. 

Like  it,  a  shepherd's  crook  to  them  that  blindly  err. 


196  AMERICAN  LITER  A  TURE. 

Your  firm-pulsed  sires,  my  martyrs  and  my  saints, 

Shoots  of  that  only  race  whose  patient  sense 

Hath  known  to  mingle  flux  with  permanence, 

Rated  my  chaste  denials  and  restraints 

Above  the  moment's  dear-paid  paradise : 

Beware  lest,  shifting  with  Time's  gradual  creep. 

The  light  that  guided  shine  into  your  eyes. 

The  envious  Powers  of  ill  nor  wink  nor  sleep  : 

Be  therefore  timely  wise, 

Nor  laugh  when  this  one  steals,  and  that  one  lies, 

As  if  your  luck  could  cheat  those  sleepless  spies. 

Till  the  deaf  Fury  comes  your  house  to  sweep  ! " 

I  hear  the  voice,  and  unaffrighted  bow  \ 

Ye  shall  not  be  prophetic  now, 

Heralds  of  ill,  that  darkening  fly 

Between  my  vision  and  the  rainbovved  sky, 

Or  on  the  left  your  hoarse  forebodings  croak 

From  many  a  blasted  bough 

On  Yggdrasil's  storm-sinewed  oak. 

That  once  was  green,  Hope  of  the  West,  as  thou : 

Yet  pardon  if  I  tremble  while  I  boast ; 

For  I  have  loved  as  those  who  pardon  most. 

X. 

Away,  ungrateful  doubt,  away  ! 
At  least  she  is  our  own  to-day. 
Break  into  rapture,  my  song, 
Verses,  leap  forth  in  the  sun, 
Bearing  the  joyance  along 
Like  a  train  of  fire  as  ye  run  ! 
Pause  not  for  choosing  of  words, 
Let  them  but  blossom  and  sing 
Blithe  as  the  orchards  and  birds 
With  the  new  coming  of  spring  ! 
Dance  in  your  jolhty,  bells  ; 
Shout,  cannon  ;  cease  not,  ye  drums ; 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO   BRET  HARTE.  197 

Answer,  ye  hillside  and  dells ; 

Bow,  all  ye  people  !     She  comes, 

Radiant,  calm-fronted,  as  when 

She  hallowed  that  April  day. 

Stay  with  us  !     Yes,  thou  shalt  stay. 

Softener  and  strengthener  of  men. 

Freedom,  not  won  by  the  vain. 

Not  to  be  courted  in  play, 

Not  to  be  kept  without  pain. 

Stay  with  us  !     Yes,  thou  wilt  stay. 

Handmaid  and  mistress  of  all, 

Kindlier  of  deed  and  of  thought, 

Thou  that  to  hut  and  to  hall 

Equal  deliverance  brought ! 

Souls  of  her  martyrs,  draw  near, 

Touch  our  dull  lips  with  your  fire. 

That  we  may  praise  without  fear 

Her  our  delight,  our  desire, 

Our  faith's  inextinguishable  star. 

Our  hope,  our  remembrance,  our  trust. 

Our  present,  our  past,  our  to  be. 

Who  will  mingle  her  life  with  our  dust 

And  make  us  deserve  to  be  free  ! 

I.  What  is  personified?  What  is  said  of  her?  What  is  the 
measure?  Is  it  musical?  H.  To  whom  is  this  part  addressed? 
What  was  the  occasion  of  a  hundred  years  ago?  Is  the  measure 
the  same  as  in  the  first  part?  As  well  handled?  III.  To  whom 
is  this  part  addressed  ?  What  equalities  of  beauty  does  she  pos- 
sess for  each?  What  does  the  poet  wish  himself  able  to  do?  Is 
the  measure  the  same  ?  Is  the  part  as  musical  as  the  preceding 
ones?  IV.  What  is  her  raiment?  What  is  the  significance  of 
the  stains  ?  Explain  the  historical  allusions.  Is  the  measure  the 
same  ?  V.  Where  was  she  found  ?  Explain  the  part  in  your  own 
language.  What  is  the  measure?  VI.  Answer  the  first  question 
in  the  part.     Explain  the  history  this  part  celebrates.     Who  were 


198  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

the  men  referred  to,  and  what  their  service?  Study  the  measure. 
VII.  What  held  the  patriots  to  earth?  Describe  the  scene  he 
pictures  here.  Notice  the  measure.  VIH.  What  is  the  thought 
of  this  short  part?  What  is  the  measure?  Why  is  the  part 
necessary  ?  IX.  With  whom  does  Freedom  dwell  ?  What  advice 
does  the  poet  give?  Notice  the  measure.  X.  What  words  are 
to  be  used  in  this  part?  What  is  his  belief  in  our  future?  Is  the 
measure  of  this  part  the  same  as  that  of  any  other  part?  Which 
of  the  parts  do  you  like  best  ?  Why  ?  Recapitulate  the  main 
points  of  the  Ode. 

TO   H.   W.   L., 

ON    HIS   BIRTHDAY,    27TH    FEBRUARY,    1867. 

I  need  not  praise  the  sweetness  of  his  song, 

Where  limpid  verse  to  limpid  verse  succeeds 
Smooth  as  our  Charles,  when,  fearing  lest  he  wrong 
The  new  moon's  mirrored  skiff,  he  slides  along, 
Full  without  noise,  and  whispers  in  his  reeds. 

With  loving  breath  of  all  the  winds  his  name 

Is  blown  about  the  world,  but  to  his  friends 
A  sweeter  secret  hides  behind  his  fame. 
And  Love  steals  shyly  through  the  loud  acclaim 
To  murmur  a  God  bless  you  !  and  there  ends. 

As  I  muse  backward  up  the  checkered  years 
Wherein  so  much  was  given,  so  much  was  lost. 

Blessings  of  both  kinds,  such  as  cheapen  tears,  — 

But  hush  !  this  is  not  for  profaner  ears  ; 

Let  them  drink  molten  pearls  nor  dream  the  cost. 

Some  suck  up  poison  from  a  sorrow's  core, 

As  naught  but  nightshade  grew  upon  earth's  ground ; 
Love  turned  all  his  to  heart's-ease,  and  the  more 
Fate  tried  his  bastions,  she  but  forced  a  door 
Leading  to  sweeter  manhood  and  more  sound. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO   BRET  HARTE.  199 

Even  as  a  wind-waved  fountain's  swaying  shade 
Seems  of  mixed  race,  a  gray  wraith  shot  with  sun, 

So  through  his  trial  faith  translucent  rayed 

Till  darkness,  half  disnatured  so,  betrayed 
A  heart  of  sunshine  that  would  fain  o'errun. 

Surely  if  skill  in  song  the  shears  may  stay 

And  of  its  purpose  cheat  the  charmed  abyss, 
If  our  poor  life  be  lengthened  by  a  lay, 
He  shall  not  go,  although  his  presence  may. 
And  the  next  age  in  praise  shall  double  this. 

Long  days  be  his,  and  each  as  lusty-sweet 

As  gracious  natures  find  his  song  to  be ; 
May  Age  steal  on  with  softly-cadenced  feet 
Falling  in  music,  as  for  him  were  meet 

Whose  choicest  verse  is  harsher- toned  than  he  ! 

What  are  the  points  mentioned  for  praise?  Is  the  best  of 
Longfellow  in  his  verse?  Do  you  agree  with  Lowell  as  to  the 
good  points  of  Longfellow  ? 

THE  VISION  OF   SIR   LAUNFAL. 

[No.  30  of  the  "  Riverside  Literature  Series  "  contains  this  and  other  poems.] 

Study  the  different  measures.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  first 
stanza?  Of  the  second?  Of  the  third?  What  is  it  we  buy? 
What  is  given  away?  Give  the  description  of  June  in  your 
own  language.  Find  spring  poetry  in  other  poets  and  com- 
pare with  this.  What  connection  has  the  lusty  June  with  Sir 
Launfal?  I.  How  does  Sir  Launfal  prepare  for  the  quest?  What 
is  his  quest?  Under  what  conditions  will  he  pursue  his  quest? 
What  is  the  Holy  Grail?  What  is  mail?  What  is  the  simile  in 
which  the  castle  is  used  ?  Describe  the  castle.  What  is  a  draw- 
bridge ?  How  did  Sir  Launfal  appear  as  he  rode  away  ?  Where 
was  there  mourning?     What  was  Sir  Launfal's  treatment  of  the 


200  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

leper?  What  did  the  leper  say?  Prelude  to  part  second.  Study 
this  description  of  winter.  Jn  what  condition  was  Sir  Launfal 
now?  What  is  a  yule-log?  What  is  a  seneschal?  II.  What  is 
the  kind  of  mourning  now  ?  What  badge  did  he  wear  ?  What  is 
described  in  the  third  stanza?  How  did  Sir  Launfal  grow  famihar 
with  such  scenes?  What  appeared  to  him  as  he  mused?  Had 
he  seen  it  before?  How  had  he  treated  it?  How  did  he  treat 
it  now?  Who  was  the  leper?  What  does  he  say  to  Sir  Launfal? 
Had  Sir  Launfal  really  gone  through  these  experiences?  What 
effect  did  the  vision  have  on  him  ? 

GeneraL  —  What  do  you  say  of  Lowell  as  an  artist?  Of  the 
criticism  in  "A  Fable  for  Critics"?  Has  he  narrative  poems? 
What  are  his  odes?  Has  he  lyrics  of  love?  War?  Patriotism? 
Does  Lowell's  love  of  nature  seem  genuine?  Is  he  strong  in 
description?  In  metaphysics?  Is  he  eloquent?  Impassioned? 
Optimistic?  Masculine?  Conventional?  Original?  Imagina- 
tive? Patriotic?  Does  his  poetry  spring  from  the  head?  The 
heart  ?  Which  in  greater  degree  ?  Is  he  the  most  skilled  of  our 
artists?    The  most  musical?     In  what  qualities  is  he  superlative? 

John  Greenleaf  Whittier^(i8o7-//^^he  6on  of  a  Quaker 
farmer,  was  born  near  Haverhill,  Massachusetts,  on  the  17th  of  Jan- 
uary. He  loved  books,  but  his  schooling  was  very  limited.  Poetic 
genius,  however,  Whittier  had,  and  poetic  genius  can 
en^  ""  flou"sh,  at  need,  even  on  the  bare  rocks  of  New  Eng- 
land. Pure,  simple  and  peaceful  was  the  social  at- 
mosphere in  which  he  grew  up ;  and  a  copy  of  Burns's  poems, 
which  early  fell  into  his  possession,  revealed  to  him  his  own  latent 
powers,  and  served,  in  a  measure,  as  his  poetic  model. 

Some  of  his  first  verses  were  published  by  William  Lloyd  Garri- 
son in  the  Newburyport  "  Free  Press,"  and  were  the  cause  of 
Garrison's  visiting  the  Whittier  homestead,  where  he  found  the 
young  author,  a  barefooted  boy,  with  his  hand  on  the  plough-tail. 
The  boy  and  the  man  discovered  bonds  of  mutual  sympathy : 
more  poems  were  the  result,  and,  for  a  few  months,  Whittier  was 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  201 

employed  in  Boston  to  write  for  the  "  American  Manufacturer." 
A  year  or  two  later,  in  1830,  he  edited  the  "Haver-  connection 
hill  Gazette,"  and  contributed  both  prose  and  poetry  withAboU- 
to  contemporary  periodicals;  and  in  1831,  he  as-  °^* 
sumed  control  of  the  "  New  England  Weekly  Review,"  to  which, 
in  the  course  of  eighteen  months,  he  contributed  many  poems 
and  sketches.  At  the  close  of  this  year  his  pieces  were  pub- 
lished in  a  volume,  called  "  New  England  Legends  in  Prose 
and  Verse."  He  now  gave  up  editing  for  the  nonce,  and  went 
home,  where  he  continued  his  poetical  activity,  and  gave  much 
attention,  under  Garrison's  influence,  to  the  question  of  negro 
slavery.  Pamphlets  and  letters  upon  this  subject  appeared  over 
his  signature  during  several  years  thereafter,  and  he  attended 
meetings,  mingled  with  agitators,  and  signed  declarations.  The 
effect  of  all  this  upon  his  poetry  was  visible  enough ;  he  gained 
the  title  of  Laureate  of  the  Abolition  Party;  but  it  must  be 
admitted  that  he  often  sacrificed  art  to  opinion.  His  anti-slavery 
verses  were  finally  collected  in  a  volume  under  the  title  of  "  Voices 
of  Freedom,  from  1833  to  1848." 

From  this  period  to  the  outbreak  of  the  war  his  literary  and 
political  labor  was  continuous.  Besides  his  Abolitionist  produc- 
tions, he  wrote  such  poems  as  "  Mogg  Megone,"  "  The  Bridal  of 

Pennacook  "  and  "  Flud  Ireson  "  ;  he  edited  for  twelve 

Ii&ter  works. 

years  the  "  National  Era,"  and  took  a  hand  in  the  build- 
ing of  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly."  His  poems  written  during  the  war 
appeared  afterwards  in  a  volume  called  "  In  War  Time."  When  the 
great  conflict  was  over,  he  turned  with  relief  from  the  passions  and 
struggles  of  the  past,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  peaceful  rural 
life  which  was  really  congenial  to  him.  "Snow-Bound"  (1866), 
"The  Tent  on  the  Beach"  (1867),  "Among  the  Hills"  (1868) 
and  "Hazel  Blossoms"  (1875)  indicate  the  current  of  his  poetic 
thought. 

The  bitter  sectional  feelings  which  prompted  a  part  of  Whit- 
tier's  verse,  and  the  passionate  conviction  which  guided  his  pen, 
though  they  may  have  helped  the  cause,  injured  the  artist,  and 
hindered   his   artistic    development.      Uneducated,   narrow    and 


202  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

prejudiced,  his  headlong  zeal  was  in  harmony  with  those  fiery 
times,  when  men  wished  to  act  rather  than  to  reflect, 
p^ett^!"^*'''  To  Whittier,  at  that  epoch,  every  "Southron  "  was  an 
unmitigated  villain,  every  slave  a  tortured  victim ;  his 
epithets  were  violent,  and  his  denunciations  unmeasured.  The 
epoch  having  passed,  the  verse  of  which  it  was  the  occasion 
must  cease  to  be  judged  by  other  than  literary  standards ;  and 
according  to  these  standards,  its  value  is,  for  the  most  part,  com- 
paratively small. 

But  when  his  true  genius  is  in  the  ascendant,  Whittier  is  a  sim- 
ple, charming,  original  poet.     There  is  nothing  studied  or  labored 
in  his  productions  :  he   seems  to  write  without  effort,  from '  the 
depths  of  a  tranquil,   reverent,   beauty-loving   spirit. 
genius*^  His  verse    reflects  the   thoughts,  habits,  and  aspira- 

tions of  a  plain,  strong,  wholesome  race,  a  race 
capable  of  heroism  and  of  moral  grandeur.  He  loved  the 
hills,  valleys,  and  coast  of  New  England  ;  he  loved  its  legends 
and  its  history,  and  he  has  a  happy  power  of  graphically  pic- 
turing the  essence  of  their  charm.  In  a  singular  manner  he 
touched  realism  with  imagination,  and  made  it  art ;  with  intui- 
tive insight  he  selected  his  materials,  and  combined  them  in  forms 
of  seemingly  spontaneous  harmony.  His  touch,  uniformly  light 
and  graceful,  is  sometimes  too  careless  :  but  his  deficient  educa- 
tion, though  it  limits  his  subjects,  and  deprives  him  of  Lowell's 
ir^  of  broad  allusion,  adds  a  distinct  loveliness  to  hi? 

laracteristically  and  almost  exclusively  American  in  his 
theme  :  and  he  reaches  the  heart  of  the  people  as  a  poet  of  higher 
culture  might  fail  to  do.  Sincerity,  charity,  heroism,  and  the  spirit 
of  human  brotherhood  breathe  through  his  best  verse  :  he  strength- 
ens us  for  our  daily  trials,  and  defines  and  elevates  our  pleasures. 


P^ow^r  of 
He  is  cfic 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  203 

Selections  and  Exercises. 
SKIPPER   IRESON'S   RIDE. 

Of  all  the  rides  since  the  birth  of  time, 

Told  in  story  or  sung  in  rhyme,  — 

On  Apuleius's  Golden  Ass, 

Or  one-eyed  Calendar's  horse  of  brass, 

Witch  astride  of  a  human  back, 

Islam's  prophet  on  Al-Borak,  — 

The  strangest  ride  that  ever  was  sped 

Was  Ireson's,  out  from  Marblehead  ! 
Old  Floyd  Ireson,  for  his  hard  heart. 
Tarred  and  feathered  and  carried  in  a  cart 
By  the  women  of  Marblehead  ! 

Body  of  turkey,  head  of  owl, 

Wings  a-droop  like  a  rained-on  fowl. 

Feathered  and  ruffled  in  every  part. 

Skipper  Ireson  stood  in  the  cart. 

Scores  of  women,  old  and  young. 

Strong  of  muscle,  and  glib  of  tongue. 

Pushed  and  pulled  up  the  rocky  lane, 

Shouting  and  singing  the  shrill  refrain  : 
"  Here's  Flud  Oirson,  fur  his  horrd  horrt, 
Torr'd  an'  futherr'd  an'  corr'd  in  a  corrt 
By  the  women  o'  Morble'ead  !  " 

Wrinkled  scolds  with  hands  on  hips. 

Girls  in  bloom  of  cheek  and  lips. 

Wild-eyed,  free-limbed,  such  as  chase 

Bacchus  round  some  antique  vase. 

Brief  of  skirt,  with  ankles  bare. 

Loose  of  kerchief  and  loose  of  hair, 

With  conch-shells  blowing  and  fish-horns'  twang. 

Over  and  over  the  Maenads  sang : 


204  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

"  Here's  Flud  Oirson,  fur  his  horrd  horrt, 
Torr'd  an'  futherr'd  an'  corr'd  in  a  corrt 
By  the  women  o'  Morble'ead  !  " 

Small  pity  for  him  :  —  He  sailed  away 
From  a  leaking  ship,  in  Chaleur  Bay,  — 
Sailed  away  from  a  sinking  wreck, 
With  his  own  town's-people  on  her  deck  ! 
"  Lay  by  !  lay  by  !  "  they  called  to  him. 
Back  he  answered,  "  Sink  or  swim  ! 
Brag  of  your  catch  of  fish  again  !  " 
And  off  he  sailed  through  the  fog  and  rain  ! 
Old  Floyd  Ireson,  for  his  hard  heart, 
Tarred  and  feathered  and  carried  in  a  cart 
By  the  women  of  Marblehead  ! 

Fathoms  deep  in  dark  Chaleur 
That  wreck  shall  lie  forevermore. 
Mother  and  sister,  wife  and  maid, 
Looked  from  the  rocks  of  Marblehead 
Over  the  moaning  and  rainy  sea,  — 
Looked  for  the  coming  that  might  not  be  ! 
What  did  the  winds  and  the  sea-birds  say 
Of  the  cruel  captain  who  sailed  away  ?  — 
Old  Floyd  Ireson,  for  his  hard  heart. 
Tarred  and  feathered  and  carried  in  a  cart 
By  the  women  of  Marblehead  ! 

Through  the  street,  on  either  side. 
Up  flew  windows,  doors  swung  wide  ; 
Sharp-tongued  spinsters,  old  wives  gray. 
Treble  lent  the  fish-horns'  bray. 
Sea-worn  grandsires,  cripple-bound. 
Hulks  of  old  sailors  run  aground. 
Shook  head,  and  fist,  and  hat,  and  cane. 
And  cracked  with  curses  the  hoarse  refrain  : 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  205 

"  Here's  Flud  Oirson,  fur  his  horrd  horrt, 
Torr'd  an'  futherr'd  an'  corr'd  in  a  corrt 
By  the  women  of  Morble'ead  !  " 

Sweetly  along  the  Salem  road 

Bloom  of  orchard  and  lilac  showed. 

Little  the  wicked  skipper  knew 

Of  the  fields  so  green  and  the  sky  so  blue. 

Riding  there  in  his  sorry  trim, 

Like  an  Indian  idol  glum  and  grim, 

Scarcely  he  seemed  the  sound  to  hear 

Of  voices  shouting,  far  and  near  : 

"  Here's  Flud  Oirson,  fur  his  horrd  horrt, 
Torr'd  an'  futherr'd  an'  corr'd  in  a  corrt 
By  the  women  o'  Morble'ead  !  " 

"  Hear  me,  neighbors  !  "  at  last  he  cried, — 

"  What  to  me  is  this  noisy  ride  ? 

What  is  the  shame  that  clothes  the  skin 

To  the  nameless  horror  that  lives  within  ? 

Waking  or  sleeping,  I  see  a  wreck. 

And  hear  a  cry  from  a  reeling  deck  ! 

Hate  me  and  curse  me,  —  I  only  dread 

The  hand  of  God  and  the  face  of  the  dead  ! " 
Said  old  Floyd  Ireson,  for  his  hard  heart. 
Tarred  and  feathered  and  carried  in  a  cart 
By  the  women  of  Marblehead  ! 

Then  the  wife  of  the  skipper  lost  at  sea 

Said,  "  God  has  touched  him  !  —  why  should  we  ?  " 

Said  an  old  wife  mourning  her  only  son, 

"  Cut  the  rogue's  tether  and  let  him  run  !  " 

So  with  soft  relentings  and  rude  excuse. 

Half  scorn,  half  pity,  they  cut  him  loose. 

And  gave  him  a  cloak  to  hide  him  in. 

And  left  him  alone  with  his  shame  and  sin. 


206  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Poor  Floyd  Ireson,  for  his  hard  heart, 
Tarred  and  feathered  and  carried  in  a  cart 
By  the  women  of  Marblehead  ! 

Look  up  the  references  to  historic  or  traditional  rides  and  describe 
them.  What  kind  of  a  figure  had  been  made  of  the  skipper? 
Who  were  his  judges?  From  the  poet's  description  of  them  would 
you  think  the  culprit  likely  to  receive  impartial  judgment?  For 
what  deed  was  the  skipper  punished?  Was  the  skipper  mortified 
at  his  situation  ?  What  emotion  really  controlled  him  at  the  time  ? 
Was  he  deeper  or  shallower,  spiritually,  than  his  judges  ?  Can  you 
give  a  quotation  from  the  Bible  corresponding  to  the  final  reflec- 
tion of  these  judges  ? 

SNOW-BOUND. 

[This  poem  can  be  had  for  15  cents  in  No.  4  of  the  "  Riverside  Literature 
Series."] 

How  is  the  snow-storm  foretold  ?  What  was  the  appearance  of 
the  sun  ?  Does  "  a  hard,  dull  bitterness  of  cold  "  usually  foretell  an 
immediate  snow-storm  in  your  latitude  ?  What  preparations  were 
made  for  the  night?  What  resemblances  do  you  find  between 
the  concluding  lines  of  the  second  stanza  descriptive  of  the  fall 
of  the  snow  and  the  lines  quoted  from  Emerson  at  the  beginning 
of  the  poem?  What  differences?  Which  is  more  accurate? 
Which  is  more  vigorous  ?  Which  is  more  detailed  ?  Find  other 
descriptions  of  snow-storms  and  compare  them.  Compare  all  of 
them  with  the  real  thing  the  first  opportunity.  How  long  did  the 
snow  fall  ?  Have  you  ever  known  it  to  fall  so  long  and  heavily  ? 
Do  you  recognize  the  description  of  the  appearance  of  the  world 
when  it  ceased,  as  accurate  ?  How  did  the  day  pass  ?  Describe 
the  preparations  for  the  night.  The  scene  when  the  members  of 
the  family  gathered  around  the  fire.  Who  were  the  members? 
Of  what  did  each  one  talk?  Most  of  the  talkers  recounted  remi- 
niscences ;  which  one  did  not  ?  How  does  he  represent  a  bright 
hope  for  the  future?  With  what  reading  matter  was  the  house- 
hold supplied  ?    What  did  the  country  newspaper  contain  ?     Have 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  207 

you  ever  been  snow-bound  in  a  country  home?  Did  you  enjoy  it? 
Would  you  enjoy  it?  Why?  Would  you  enjoy  it  more  now  since 
reading  this  poem?  Do  you  think  the  poet  enjoyed  the  expe- 
rience or  the  retrospect  more?  Why?  Do  you  know  of  an 
account  of  a  snow-storm  as  complete  as  this?  Are  idyls  com- 
monly snow-scenes? 

Characterize  fully  the  kind  of  life  represented  here.  Take 
paper  and  pencil ;  begin  with  the  most  salient  characteristics ; 
amplify  and  elaborate.  Do  this  work  thoroughly  and  take  to- 
morrow's recitation  hour  for  comparing  yoUr  papers  if  your  teacher 
can  allow  you  the  time. 

General.  —  Had  Whittier  a  liberal  education?  Was  his  expe- 
rience a  broad  one?  Was  he  broad  and  liberal  in  his  views? 
What  grounds  do  you  have  for  the  opinion  you  have  expressed? 
What  other  American  poets  have  used  Indian  legends  ?  Can  you 
name  an  American  poet  who  has  dealt  with  them  more  elaborately 
and  successfully  ?  How  does  he  excel  Whittier  ?  Read  "  Voices 
of  Freedom,"  "  In  W^ar  Time  "  and  "  National  Lyrics."  In  what 
other  poets  do  you  find  poems  upon  slavery  ?  Do  any  of  them 
show  an  equal  volume  on  this  subject?  Do  any  of  them  show  so 
much  zeal  ?  Passion  ?  Skill  ?  Extravagance  ?  Does  he  warn  or 
condemn?  Argue  or  denounce ?  Was  he  a  poet  or  a  seer?  The 
poet  often  sacrificed  artistic  finish  to  the  passion  and  urgency  of 
the  occasion ;  do  you  think  it  better  or  worse  for  him  to  have 
done  so?     Why? 

Do  you  find  an  affection  for  New  England  scenery  and  life  in 
his  poetry?  What  poems?  Do  you  think  him  to  be  a  pious 
man?  Why?  Read  "My  Psalm."  Put  in  your  own  words  the 
ideas  it  expresses.  Do  his  Quaker  sympathies  show?  From  what 
region  does  he  derive  the  materials  for  his  ballads  ? 

Do  you  find  any  lyrics  of  love  ?  Of  patriotism  ?  Classify  his 
lyrics  by  the  subjects  that  inspire  them. 

Is  his  poetry  profound?  Metaphysical?  Reflective?  Argu- 
mentative? Serene?  Turbulent?  Indifferent?  Impassioned? 
Eloquent?    Touching?    Impulsive?    Musical?    Graceful?    Earn- 


208  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

est?  Varied?  Impressive?  Soothing?  Provincial?  Joyous? 
Depressing  ?  Hopeful  ?  In  each  case  give  the  grounds  of  your 
decision. 

Edwin  Percy  Whipple  (i8 19-1886)  was  born  in  Boston,  and 
was  the  first  American  writer  to  devote  himself  exclusively  to  criti- 
cism. For  this,  if  for  no  other  reason,  he  would  deserve  honora- 
ble mention,  since  his  work  proved  that  this  country  had  already 
advanced  far  enough  in  culture  and  character  to  admit  of  search- 
ing and  sympathetic  native  study.  But  Whipple  was  not  only 
a  critic  ;  he  was  also  a  critic  of  first-rate  ability.  His  literary  judg- 
Our  first  nients  were  as  just  as  they  were  acute,  and  have 
professional  been  confirmed  by  the  verdict  of  later  years.  His 
critic.  mind  was  both  penetrating  and  comprehensive ;    he 

took  the  philosophical  view,  and  showed  the  sources  and  rela- 
tions of  existing  conditions.  The  range  of  his  reading  was 
extensive  and  its  subjects  well-chosen ;  he  was  familiar  with 
the  field  of  European  literature,  as  well  as  with  American : 
only  Lowell  rivalled  him  in  this  respect,  and  he  gave  himself, 
as  Lowell  did  not,  wholly  to  the  critical  function.  He  may 
fairly  be  classed  with  such  men  as  Matthew  Arnold  in  England, 
and  Taine  in  France ;  for  though  his  scope  was  less  preten- 
tious than  theirs,  the  actual  value  of  his  achievements  will  probably 
not  be  found  inferior.  His  gift  of  interpretation  and  expression 
was  commensurate  with  his  insight ;  so  that  his  essays  are  not 
merely  instructive  to  students,  but  delightful  to  the  general  reader. 
Humor  he  possesses  in  abundance  ;  eloquence ;  and  the  faculty  of 
giving  charm  and  lucidity  to  subjects  apparently  dry  and  intricate. 
His  merits  have  been  acknowledged  by  competent  foreign  judges, 
and  many  an  English  scholar's  library  contains  his  books.  No 
one  who  wishes  to  acquire  a  vivid  and  trustworthy  conception  of 
eminent  American  books  and  men,  and  of  the  conditions  of  recent 
American  existence,  can  do  better  than  to  consult  the  writings  of 
Whipple. 

He  was  a  lecturer  as  well  as  a  writer,  though  his  topics  on  the 
platform  were  of  the  same  class  as  his  themes  in  the  study.     But 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  209 

the  humor,  vivacity  and  emphasis  of  his  oral  dehvery  made  him 
a  favorite  with  audiences.     Nor  was  he  less  popular 
in   society,  where    his   genial   qualities   and    brilliant  t°o"g*"^*" 
talk  made  him   more  than  welcome.      He  was  the 
personal  friend  of  the  chief  American  writers  of  his  day,  a  fact 
creditable  to  both  him  and  them,  since  he  never  permitted  per- 
sonal predilections  to  color  his  literary  opinions. 

He  studied  and  interpreted  men  as  well  as  books,  and  had  not 
a  little  to  say  on  such  topics  as  the  laws  of  government,  the  prin- 
ciples of  civiHzation,  and  the  political  questions  of  the  day.  One 
of  his  volumes,  "The  Literature  of  the  Age  of  Elizabeth,"  treats 
of  those  great  writers  of  the  sixteenth  century  whose  productions 
belong  as  much  to  America  as  to  England.  "  Washington  and  the 
Principles  of  the  Revolution  "  is  a  criticism  of  the  first  crucial 
epoch  of  our  history  ;  "  Daniel  Webster  and  Rufus  Choate  "  covers 
an  interesting  region  of  our  Constitutional  period  ;  and  such  books 
as  "  Success  and  its  Conditions,"  "  Character  and  Characteristic 
Men,"  and  "  Literature  and  Life,"  discuss  more  general  aspects  of 
existence.  After  his  death  a  volume  of  posthumous  sketches, 
largely  political,  was  published ;  but  his  fame  is  based  upon  and 
secured  by  what  his  own  judgment  has  previously  prompted  him 
to  put  forth. 

R.  H.  Dana,  Jr.  (1815-     )  is  known  to  literature  chiefly  by 
his  "Two  Years  before  the  Mast,"  a  record  of  a  voyage  made  in 
1833,  or  thereabouts,  from  New  England  to  California,  by  way  of 
Cape  Horn.     This  was  fifteen  years  before  the  discovery  of  gold 
on  the  Western  coast,  and  the  country  was  practically  uninhabited. 
The  only  trade  was  in  hides,  and  it  was  to  barter  for  these  that  the 
voyage  was  undertaken.      Dana,  by  way  of  restoring  his  infirm 
health,  shipped  as  a  common  seaman,  and  wrote  this  a  famous 
story  of  his  experiences  several  years  after  his  return   narrative  of 
to  Boston.     It  is  one  of  the  best,  if  not  the  best,  true   ^®^"^^^®* 
narrative  of  a  sea-life  ever  pubHshed  :  the  style  is  quiet  and  simple, 
the   descriptions  vivid   and  stirring,  and  the   record  of  facts  so 
manifestly  accurate   and   impartial,  and,  at   the   same  time,   so 


210  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

thoughtful  and  intelligent,  that  the  reader  feels  as  if  he  himself 
were  a  participant  in  the  author's  adventures.  A  hitherto  un- 
known side  of  life  is  revealed  in  all  its  details  :  and  its  veracity 
and  importance  are  evidenced  by  the  fact  that  the  book  is 
still  in  print,  and  "is  probably  read  by  as  many  persons  to- 
day as  at  the  time  of  its  first  appearance.  Mr.  Dana,  after  his 
return,  applied  himself  to  the  study  and  practice  of  maritime  law, 
and  never  attempted  to  repeat  his  first  literary  success.  It  is 
seldom  that  a  writer  has  achieved  a  fame  so  enduring  on  the  basis 
of  a  single  volume. 

Herman  Melville  (1819-  ).  Forty  years  ago,  few  American 
authors  had  so  wide  a  reputation  as  Melville,  whose  books  of 
sea-adventure,  part  fact  and  part  fancy,  were  read  and  praised  in 
England  quite  as  much  and  as  warmly  as  in  this  country.  Not  to 
have  read  "  Typee  "  and  "  Omoo "  was  not  to  have  made  the 
acquaintance  of  the  most  entertaining  and  novel  current  literature  : 
and  those  who  take  them  up  to-day  find  their  charm  and  interest 
almost  unimpaired.     The  leading  sea-novelist  of  the  present  day 

has  acknowledged  Melville  as  his  master ;  and  there 
novtiisf  ^*^'  ^^   ^°   doubt   that  he  possessed  not  only  exhaustive 

technical  knowledge  of  his  chosen  field,  but  that 
his  talent  for  exploiting  it  amounted  to  genius.  The  main 
substance  of  his  books  is  plainly  founded  on  fact :  but  the  facts 
are  so  judiciously  selected  as  to  produce  the  effect  of  art,  while 
the  flavoring  of  fiction  is  so  artfully  introduced  as  to  seem 
like  fact.  All  the  stories  are  told  in  the  first  person,  and  there 
is  a  fascination  and  mystery  in  the  narrator's  personality  that 
much  enhances  the  interest  of  the  tale.  But  Melville's  imagi- 
nation has  a  tendency  to  wildness  and  metaphysical  extravagance ; 
and  when  he  trusted  to  it  alone,  he  becomes  difficult  and  some- 
times repulsive.  There  seems,  also,  to  be  a  background  of  gloom 
in  his  nature,  making  itself  felt  even  in  the  midst  of  his  sunshine  : 
and  now  and  then  his  speculations  and  rhapsodies  have  a  tinge 
almost  of  insanity.  "  Typee  "  and  "  Omoo  "  are  stories  of  adven- 
ture, in  the  Pacific  archipelago,  as  is  also  ''  Mardi,"  but  the  latter 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  211 

merges  into  a  quasi- symbolic  analysis  of  human  life,  perplexing  to 
the  general  reader,  though  the  splendor  and  poetic  beauty  of  the 
descriptions  win  his  admiration.  "  Redburn  "  is  the  narrative  of 
a  voyage  to  Liverpool  before  the  mast,  in  an  American  clipper, 
and  is  a  model  of  simplicity  and  impressiveness  :  "  White  Jacket " 
describes  life  on  an  American  man-of-war,  and  overflows  with 
humor,  character,  adventure  and  absorbing  pictures  of  a  kind  of 
existence  which  has  now  ceased  forever  to  exist.  "  Moby  Dick,  or 
The  Whale  "  takes  up  the  whole  subject  of  whaUng,  as  practised 
in  the  '30's  and  '40's,  and  is,  if  anything,  more  interesting  and 
valuable  than  "White  Jacket";  the  scenes  are  grouped  about  a 
wildly  romantic  and  original  plot,  concerned  with  the  chase  round 
the  world  of  an  enormous  white  whale  —  Moby  Dick  —  by  a  sea- 
captain  who  has  previously  lost  a  limb  in  a  conflict  with  the 
monster,  and  has  sworn  revenge.  This  is  the  most  powerful  of 
Melville's  books ;  it  was  also  the  last  of  any  literary  importance. 
"  Pierre,  or  The  Ambiguities  "  is  a  repulsive,  insane  and  impossi- 
ble romance,  in  which  the  sea  has  no  part,  and  one  or  two  later 
books  need  not  be  mentioned.  But  Melville's  position  in  hterature 
is  secure  and  solitary :  he  surpasses  Cooper,  when  Cooper  writes 
of  the  sea ;  and  no  subsequent  writer  has  even  challenged  a  com- 
parison with  him  on  that  element. 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  (Barstow)  Stoddard  (1823-    )  was  born  in 

a  seaport  of  Massachusetts,  and  was  married  at  the  age  of  thirty  to 

Richard  Henry  Stoddard,  the  poet  and   literary  critic.     She  is 

known  as  the  author  of  three  novels  of  New  England  life  as  it  was 

forty  or  fifty  years  ago.    These  books  were  first  pubHshed  at  about 

the  time  of  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War,  and  have 

An  uncom- 
lately  been  republished  in  a  uniform  edition.     Few  promising 

men,  and  no  woman,  has  written  stories  more  original  Realist  of 
and  powerful  than  these.     They  are  short,  concen- 
trated and  austere ;  they  are  pictures,  not  of  events,  but  of  being 
and  growth.      The  dialogues  are  brief  and  pregnant,  and  serve 
not  to  advance  the  plot,  but  to  reveal  character.     They  evince 
deep  and  unflinching  insight  into  the  spiritual  reahties   of  fife; 


212  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

the  seemingly  idle  and  purposeless  utterances  of  the  persons  of 
the  drama  admit  us  into  a  strange  and  profound  intimacy,  with 
their  natures.  The  outward  appearance  of  these  persons  is  ordi- 
nary and,  as  a  rule,  unattractive  :  they  live  in  commonplace  sur- 
roundings :  no  singular  experience  or  exceptional  occurrence  is 
employed  to  excite  our  attention.  But  the  springs  of  thought 
and  emotion  are  laid  bare,  and  we  see,  beneath  the  familiar  ex- 
terior, a  novel  and  impressive  interior  region.  There  is  no  trace 
of  the  romantic  or  of  the  ideal  in  the  narrative ;  the  realism  is 
uncompromising,  but  it  is  realism  of  the  soul  rather  than  of  the 
body.  The  material  conditions  are  touched  truthfully,  but  not 
insistently;  the  soul  is  shown  as  it  is,  unsoftened,  unmitigated, 
selfish,  cruel,  passionate,  secret,  audacious.  The  drama  is  ren- 
dered more  powerful  by  the  local  setting :  the  gloomy  and  rigid 
Puritan  rule  and  habit  of  life,  in  deadly  but  silent  grapple  with 
the  instincts  and  intuitions  of  the  human  spirit.  Mrs.  Stoddard 
has  no  passages  of  explanation  or  analysis  :  she  aims  to  make  her 
characters  live  before  you,  and  you  must  learn  to  know  them  as 
you  would  learn  to  know  people  in  the  real  world.  Nothing  is 
more  original  —  more  opposed  to  the  conventionalities  of  fiction 
—  than  her  treatment  of  the  passion  of  love  and  hate.  The 
stronger  the  emotion,  the  more  rigorously  it  strives  to  conceal 
itself.  To  say  that  there  is  no  "  gush  "  in  these  stories  would  be 
the  extreme  of  understatement.  They  are  as  severe  as  the  old 
Greek  dramas ;  yet  there  is  a  personal  human  quality  in  them 
which  the  Greek  has  not.  To  read  —  or,  rather,  to  study  —  this 
remarkable  trilogy  of  novels  is  to  undergo  a  fresh  experience,  not 
only  of  fiction  but  of  life.  Their  quality  is  too  intense  and  stern, 
and  the  narrow,  unlovely  New  England  setting  is  too  unfamiliar, 
to  admit  of  their  ever  becoming  popular :  but  they  are  strong 
and  vital  enough  to  modify,  and  for  the  better,  the  tendencies 
of  modern  fiction.  Beauty  enters  into  them  but  rarely;  but 
when  it  does  come,  it  is  like  a  violet  in  the  desert,  the  sweeter 
for  its  dreary  and  unsympathetic  environment.  The  humor  is 
virile  and  spontaneous,  widely  different  from  the  studied  and 
giggling  humor  of  the  contemporary  fashion.     The  titles  of  Mrs. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  213 

Stoddard's  books  are  "Two  Men,"  "Temple  House,"  and  "The 
Morgesons." 

William  Starbuck  Mayo  (1812-  )  is  the  author  of  a  couple 
of  books  for  boys  —  "  Kaloolah  "  and  "The  Berber,"  which  still 
survive,  after  the  vicissitudes  of  thirty  or  forty  years  ;  and  of  a  novel 
of  modern  New  York  life  — "  Never  Again,"  which,  though 
published  little  more  than  twelve  years  ago,  is  forgotten.  The 
two  first  books  are  stories  of  adventure  in  Africa  and  other  remote 
places,  in  which  physical  strength  and  daring,  romantic  love,  and 
perilous  adventure,  form  the  substance  of  the  narrative.  They 
are  written  with  vigor  and  effect,  and  with  a  certain  evident  pleas- 
ure and  interest  on  the  author's  part  which  are  contagious. 
There  is  incident  on  every  page,  and  the  hero  and  the  heroine 
are  delectable  and  satisfactory  in  every  necessary  respect.  A  vein 
of  humorous  satire  is  also  perceptible  in  "  Kaloolah,"  which  shows 
a  comprehensive  grasp  of  life  by  the  writer.  As  for  "  Never 
Again,"  it  possesses  a  labyrinthine  plot,  and  a  numerous  array  of 
characters,  but  the  author's  aim  is  inscrutable,  and  his  romance 
is  put  in  in  the  wrong  place.  It  produces  no  definite  effect  on 
the  mind,  and  its  improbabilities  are  grotesque.  It  had,  however, 
a  measure  of  success  in  London,  where  it  was  accepted  as  a  vera- 
cious picture  of  contemporary  life  in  Northeastern  America. 

Josiah  Gilbert  Holland  (1819-1881)  was  born  in  Belchertown, 
Massachusetts,  the  son  of  a  poor  mechanic  and  inventor.  He  was 
nearly  forty  years  old  before,  under  the  pseudonym  of  "  Timothy 
Titcomb,"  he  made  his  first  success  in  Hterature,  in  a  series  of 
papers  addressed  to  young  men,  and  published  in  the  "Spring- 
field Republican."  The  interval  had  been  spent  in  hard  and 
distasteful  work  —  first  in  trying  to  get  an  education,  then  in 
trying  to  teach  others ;  he  took  a  diploma  at  a  medical  school, 
waited  for  practice  that  never  came,  went  to  Virginia,  and 
returned ;  married ;  and  finally  settled  down  with  Samuel  Bowles 
to  work  on-  the  "  Springfield  Republican."  It  was  at  Bowles's 
suggestion   that   the    "Timothy  Titcomb"  papers  were   begun; 


214 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


and  when  they  were  collected  in  a  volume,  it  was  the  firm  of 

•,-   X      .        Charles  Scribner  &  Co.  that  undertook  their  publi- 
The  founder  ^ 

of  *'Scrii)-     cation.      The    association   of  author   and   publisher, 
ner'^Maga-     thus  begun,  resulted,  years  after,  in  the  founding  of 
*'Scribner's  Monthly,"  now  "The  Century,"  one   of 
the  most  successful  magazines  in  the  world. 

Meanwhile,  Holland  wrote  numerous  novels  and  poems  and 
papers,  all  of  which  were  successful,  and  some  of  them  conspicu- 
ously so.  Among  them  may  be  mentioned  "  Miss  Gilbert's  Career," 
published  in  i860,  "Plain  Talk  on  Familiar  Subjects"   (1865), 

"  Kathrina,"  a  poem (186 7),  "Arthur 
Bonnicastle"  (1871),  first  published 
serially  in  "  Scribner's  Monthly," 
"  The  Mistress  of  the  Manse  "(1875). 
Holland's  writings  fall  into  three 
groups  :  the  poems,  the  novels,  and 
the  papers  on  every-day  morals  and 
duties.  The  latter  discuss  a  wide 
range  of  familiar  topics,  and  the  style 
is  homely  and  commonplace.  They 
place  the  average  reader's  own  best 
thoughts  before  him,  and  it  is  to  this 
catholic  and  unpretentious  quality 
that  they  owe  their  success.  The 
novels  portray  the  conflict  between 
honest  unselfishness  and  self-seeking  greed  :  the  poems  combine 
popular  sentiment  and  morahty.  All  are  more  or  less  didactic  — 
they  are  meant  to  convey  a  lesson.  None  of  Holland's  writings 
have  literary  value  :  but  their  wide  success  shows  that  literary 
value  is  by  no  means  essential  to  the  attainment  of  popularity : 
and  their  freedom  from  sensationalism  and  all  vicious  features  is 
to  be  commended. 


Josiah  Gilbert  Holland. 


Edward  Everett  Hale  (1822-  )  is  a  scholar  of  fair  attain- 
ments, and  is  beloved  and  influential  as  a  clergyman  in  Boston. 
But  he  has  written  enough  to  show  that,  had  he  devoted  himself  to 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE. 


215 


literature,  he  might  have  reached  a  high  place  among  our  men  of 
the  pen.     He  has  the  literary  touch  and  instinct,  a  vigorous,  enjoy- 
able temperament,  and  a  sane,  thoughtful,  humorous  mind.     In 
some  respects  he  may  be  regarded  as  the  forerunner 
of  Frank  Stockton.     He  dehghts  to  treat  impossible  ^^^^^ 
subjects  in  a  realistic  manner.     But,  beneath  the  fan- 
ciful humor  of  his  conceptions,  there  is  generally  a  deeper  quality, 
which  those  who  care  for  more  than  the  outside  may  profit  by. 
There  is  a  grave  moral  in  "The  Man  without  a  Country,"  a  tale 
first  published  in  the  "Atlantic  Monthly,"  and  so  artfully  con- 
structed as  to  appear  like  a  true 
narrative.     "  My  Double,  and  how 
he  undid  me,"  is  purely  comical, 
though  the  comedy  is  admirably 
managed :  while  "  The  Brick  Moon  " 
unites  the  fancy  of  Jules  Verne  with 
the  solid  literary  workmanship  of 
Poe's  "  Hans  Pfaal."    These  stories 
can  be  read  again  and  again ;  they 
are  charming,  not  only  as  stories, 
but  also  for  their  literary  texture 
and  human  quality.      Their  origi- 
nality is  not  in  the  structure  of  the 
plot  merely;  it  is  ingrain  :  its  source  Edward  Everett  Haie. 

is  in  the  make  of  the  author's  mind. 

He  is  a  master  of  the  material  he  works  in ;  and  his  productions, 
comparatively  few  in  number,  are  likely  to  last.  In  addition  to 
the  series  above  mentioned,  he  has  written  such  short  novels  as 
"Ten  Times  One  is  Ten"  and  "In  His  Name,"  —  books  which 
combine  wholesome  and  hearty  fun  with  sound  good  sense  and 
broad  morality. 


Theodore  Winthrop  (1828-1861),  a  descendant  of  Governor 
Winthrop  of  Massachusetts,  received  a  fine  education,  and  was 
expected  by  his  friends  to  do  something  worthy  of  his  ancestry, 
and  of  his  own  marked  abilities.     But,  until  the  breaking  out  of 


216  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

the  Civil  War,  he  seemed  unable  to  find  anything  to  do.  He 
travelled  in  Europe,  and  in  the  West,  and  kept  a  journal  of  his 
experiences ;  he  was  a  charming  companion,  and  was  on  intimate 
terms  with  some  of  the  best  men  of  his  time ;  but  year  after  year 
he  remained  idle.  When  war  was  declared,  however,  he  joined  a 
regiment,  and  a  few  months  later  was  shot  at  Great  Bethel,  in  an 
otherwise  unimportant  skirmish.  Meanwhile  he  had  contributed 
to  the  "  Atlantic  Monthly  "  several  papers  descriptive  of  his  camp 
experiences,  and  a  short  story  called  "  Love  on  Skates."  After  his 
death,  several  complete  novels  in  manuscript  were  found  among 
his  effects,  and  these  were  published  by  Ticknor  &  Fields.  They 
were  received  with  great  favor,  partly  due,  no  doubt,  to  the  tragic 
end  of  their  young  author.  They  are  strong  stories, 
ring  stories.  '^^  ^^  action  and  passion,  but  are  written  in  a  self- 
conscious,  abrupt  style ;  the  sentiment  is  forced  and 
the  characterization  unnatural.  In  "  Cecil  Dreeme,"  the  first  to 
be  published,  the  scene  is  laid  in  New  York,  "  Chrysalis  Col- 
lege "  being  the  old  University  Building  on  Washington  Square. 
It  is  a  morbid  and  gloomy  tale.  The  next  volume  to  appear  was 
*'John  Brent,"  a  story  of  life  on  the  Western  plains.  It  is  a 
healthier  story  than  the  other,  and  the  chapter  called  "The 
Gallop  of  Three  "  is  a  stirring  piece  of  writing.  A  black  horse, 
Don  Fulano,  plays  a  leading  part  in  the  narrative.  "  Edwin 
Brothertoft "  is  the  name  of  the  third  novel,  which  goes  back  to 
Revolutionary  times.  ''The  Canoe  and  the  Saddle,"  compiled 
from  the  author's  journals,  followed  the  novels.  Winthrop  lacked 
experience,  and  in  aiming  to  be  original,  became  cramped  and 
artificial :  but  he  aimed  high,  and  there  are  the  germs  of  good 
possibilities  in  his  pages. 

Bayard  Taylor  (1825-18 78).      Beginning  the  world  in  an 

obscure  Pennsylvania  village,  without  money,  without  friends,  and 

with  little  or  no  education,  Taylor  died  at  fifty-three, 

A  worker  m    ^^^^  ^^  ^^  best-known  and  best-loved  men  of  letters 
many  fields. 

in  America.     He  was  renowned  as  a  traveller,  popular 

as  a  journaHst,  praised  as  a  novelist,  in  demand  as  a  lecturer  and 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE. 


IVJ 


admired  as  a  poet.  He  lived  to  fill  the  post  of  Minister  to  Ger- 
many, and  he  was  the  friend  and  favorite  of  the  foremost  American 
literary  men  of  his  time. 

It  was  a  brilliant  and  energetic  career,  and  to  outsiders  it  seemed 
a  successful  one  ;  but  Taylor  had  a 
high  and  abstracted  ambition,  and 
he  felt  that,  in  what  he  most  cared 
for,  his  success  had  been  but  par- 
tial.  He  desired  to  be  a  great  poet : 
poetry  was  the  end  and  aim  of  his 
life  :  all  else  wa?  but  conducive  or 
preparatory  to  that.      In  order  to 
write  poetry,  it  was  necessary  to  see 
and  to  know;  and,  meanwhile,  to 
provide  himself  with  the  means  of 
livelihood.  He  saw  Europe  at  twenty 
years  of  age,  travelling  from  place  to 
place  on  foot,  and  supporting  him- 
self by  letters  written  to  the  New 
York  "  Tribune."     He  repeated  and  extended  his  journeyings, 
visited  the  far  East,  and  rejoiced  in  the  ardor  of  tropic  suns, 
penetrated  northward  to  where  the  sun  rolls  along  the  horizon, 
instead  of  sinking  beneath  it,  climbed   glaciers  and 
traversed   deserts,  and   filled   his    memory  with   the  ^|,Ji^^ 
history  and  the  relics  of  antiquity.     By  constant  appli- 
cation  to   all   manner  of   literary   work,    he   acquired  at   last  a 
tolerable  competence ;  but  although,  by  that  time,  he  had  pro- 
duced  a   fair   amount   of  verse,    he    felt   that   opportunity    and 
leisure  had  as  yet  been  wanting  to  realize  the  high  excellence 
that  he  coveted.     But  the  opportunity  had  only  been  postponed  : 
it  had  not  been  lost.     Now  it  had  come  :   and  he  bent  himself 
to  his  lofty  task  with  hopeful  ardor.     He  wrote  better  than  he 
had  ever  before  written ;  he  produced  poems  which  were  good, 
admirable  —  all  but  great.     But  they  were  not  quite  great :  and 
no  one  recognized  this  truth  so  quickly  and  clearly  as  he.     He 
had  miscalculated  his  powers ;    they  had  sufficed  to  bring  him 


Bayard  Taylor. 


218  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

almost  within  reach  of  his  goal,  and  there  they  failed  him..  It 
was  a  tragedy  of  the  soul,  to  be  appreciated  by  those  only  who 
were  as  finely  organized  as  he.  He  had  dreamed  of  being  first ; 
and  to  find  himself,  at  the  end  of  his  career,  anywhere  else  than 
first  was  to  him  no  better  than  to  have  fallen  at  the  outset.  He 
died,  while  yet  comparatively  young,  a  disappointed  man,  though 
only  those  who  knew  him  most  intimately  suspected  it. 

His  books  were  many.  Besides  his  prose  descriptions  of  his 
various  journeys,  from  the  "  Views  Afoot  "  to  the  "  Visit  to  India," 
he  wrote  four  novels,  of  which  the  first,  ''  Hannah  Thurston,"  is 

the  best ;  and  published  "  Rhymes  of  Travel,"  "  Cali- 
wltor;^         fornia  Ballads,"  "  Poems  of  the  Orient,"  and  "  Lars." 

He  was  at  his  best  in  his  lyrics :  and  such  poems  as 
"  The  Bedouin  Song,"  and  "  Amram's  Wooing  "  are  nearly  perfect. 
His  narrative  poems  have  many  fine  passages,  but  are,  as  a  rule, 
better  in  conception  than  in  execution.  "  The  Prophet "  attempts 
to  render  poetical  a  suggestion  derived  from  the  Mormon  episode  ; 
"  Prince  Deukalion  "  traces,  in  dramatic  form,  the  course  of  civili- 
zation, past  and  to  come.  His  best  poem  is  "  The  Masque  of  the 
Gods,"  written  late  in  life,  and  with  extraordinary  rapidity.  It  was 
in  his  last  years,  too,  that  he  made  a  translation  of  Goethe's  "  Faust," 
which  is  regarded  as  the  best  in  existence.  His  acquaintance  with 
German  literature  was  profound,  and  his  wife  was  a  German  woman. 
A  lyric  poet  "^^^  genius  showed  strongest  in  emotional  and  erotic 
of  high  poetry.     But  he  sometimes  soared  so  high  that  one 

order.  it^\%  as  if  a  few  strokes  more  of  his  wings  would  have 

made  his  immortality  secure. 


Selections  and  Exercises. 
A   SYMBOL. 


Heavy,  and  hot,  and  gray, 
Day  following  unto  day, 
A  felon  gang,  their  blind  life  drag  away. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  219 

Blind,  vacant,  dumb,  as  Time, 

Lapsed  from  his  wonted  prime. 

Begot  them  basely  in  incestuous  crime ; 

So  little  life  there  seems 
About  the  woods  and  streams,  — 
Only  a  sleep,  perplexed  with  nightmare  dreams. 

The  burden  of  a  sigh 
Stifles  the  weary  sky. 
Where  smouldering  clouds  in  ashen  masses  lie : 

The  forests  fain  would  groan. 
But,  silenced  into  stone, 
Crouch,  in  the  dull  blue  vapors  round  them  thrown. 

O  light,  more  drear  than  gloom  ! 
Than  death  more  dead  such  bloom. 
Yet  life  —  yet  life  —  shall  burst  this  gathering  doom  ! 


Behold  !  a  swift  and  silent  fire 

Yon  dull  cloud  pierces,  in  the  west. 

And  blackening,  as  with  growing  ire. 
He  lifts  his  forehead  from  his  breast. 

He  mutters  to  the  ashy  host 

That  all  around  him  sleeping  He  — 

Sole  chieftain  on  the  airy  coast. 
To  fight  the  battles  of  the  sky. 

He  slowly  lifts  his  weary  strength, 
His  shadow  rises  on  the  day. 

And  distant  forests  feel  at  length 
A  wind  from  landscapes  far  away. 


220  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


How  shall  the  cloud  unload  its  thunder? 

How  shall  its  flashes  fire  the  air  ? 
Hills  and  valleys  are  dumb  with  wonder : 

Lakes  look  up  with  a  leaden  stare. 

Hark  !  the  lungs  of  the  striding  giant 
Bellow  an  angry  answer  back  ! 

Hurling  the  hair  from  his  brows  defiant, 
Crushing  the  laggards  along  his  track. 

Now  his  step,  like  a  battling  Titan's, 
Scales  in  flame  the  hills  of  the  sky ; 

Struck  by  his  breath,  the  forest  whitens ; 
Fluttering  waters  feel  him  nigh  ! 

Stroke  on  stroke  of  his  thunder-hammer - 
Sheets  of  flame  from  his  anvil  hurled  — 

Heaven's  doors  are  burst  in  the  clamor. 
He  alone  possesses  the  world  ! 

IV. 

Drowned  woods,  shudder  no  more  : 
Vexed  lakes,  smile  as  before  : 
Hills  that  vanished,  appear  again  : 
Rise  for  harvest,  prostrate  grain  ! 

Shake  thy  jewels,  twinkling  grass  : 
Blossoms,  tint  the  winds  that  pass  : 
Sun,  behold  a  world  restored  ! 
World,  again  thy  son  is  lord  ! 

Thunder-spasms  the  waking  be 
Into  Life  from  Apathy  : 
Life,  not  Death,  is  in  the  gale,  — 
Let  the  coming  Doom  prevail ! 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRMT  HARTE.  11\ 

I.  This  part  describes  the  hot,  sultry  days  preceding  a  storm. 
Take  it  stanza  by  stanza  and  study  the  imagery  and  the  tense 
expression.  II.  The  gathering  of  the  storm.  Does  it  increase 
the  effect  of  the  description  to  personify  the  cloud  and  make  it  a 
leader?  What  is  the  "ashy  host  "?  III.  The  storm  in  its  fury. 
Note  the  gradual  growth  in  violence  and  power  till  the  final  line, 
"  He  alone  possesses  the  world."  IV.  What  is  the  appearance  of 
the  landscape  after  the  storm  has  passed  away?  What  does  it 
signify  to  life  ? 

Do  you  know  of  a  more  vivid  description  of  a  storm?  Com- 
pare it  with  any  other  description  you  can  find. 

BEDOUIN   SONG. 

From  the  Desert  I  come  to  thee 

On  a  stalHon  shod  with  fire ; 
And  the  winds  are  left  behind 
In  the  speed  of  my  desire. 
Under  thy  window  I  stand, 
And  the  midnight  hears  my  cry : 
I  love  thee,  I  love  but  thee, 
With  a  love  that  shall  not  die 
Till  the  sun  grows  cold, 
And  the  stars  are  old, 
And  the  leaves  of  the  Judgment  Book  unfold! 

Look  from  thy  window  and  see 

My  passion  and  my  pain ; 
I  lie  on  the  sands  below. 

And  I  faint  in  thy  disdain. 
Let  the  night-winds  touch  thy  brow 
With  the  heat  of  my  burning  sigh, 
And  melt  thee  to  hear  the  vow 
Of  a  love  that  shall  not  die 
Till  the  sun  grows  cold, 
And  the  stars  are  old, 
And  the  leaves  of  the  Judgment  Book  unfold  I 


222  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

My  Steps  are  nightly  driven, 
By  the  fever  in  my  breast, 
To  hear  from  thy  lattice  breathed 

The  word  that  shall  give  me  rest. 
Open  the  door  of  thy  heart. 

And  open  thy  chamber  door, 
And  my  kisses  shall  teach  thy  lips 
The  love  that  shall  fade  no  more 
Till  the  sun  grows  cold. 
And  the  stars  are  old^ 
And  the  leaves  of  the  Judgment  Book  unfold! 

What  are  the  most  conspicuous  quaUties  of  this  poem  ?  Mean- 
ing of  "  Bedouin  "  ?  Has  the  poem  the  "  Bedouin  "  atmosphere  ? 
How  is  the  atmosphere  secured  ?  Compare  this  poem  to  Shelley's 
"  Lines  to  an  Indian  Air."     Which  do  you  prefer?     Why? 


AMRAM'S  WOOING. 

I. 

You  ask,  O  Frank  !  how  Love  is  born 
Within  these  glowing  climes  of  Morn, 
Where  envious  veils  conceal  the  charms 
That  tempt  a  Western  lover's  arms, 
And  how,  without  a  voice  or  sound. 
From  heart  to  heart  the  path  is  found. 
Since  on  the  eye  alone  is  flung 
The  burden  of  the  silent  tongue. 
You  hearken  with  a  doubtful  smile 
Whene'er  the  wandering  bards  beguile 
Our  evening  indolence  with  strains 
Whose  words  gush  molten  through  our  veins. 
The  songs  of  Love,  but  half  confessed. 
Where  Passion  sobs  on  Sorrow's  breast. 
And  mighty  longings,  tender  fears. 
Steep  the  strong  heart  in  fire  and  tears. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRET  HARTE.  223 

The  source  of  each  accordant  strain 

Lies  deeper  than  the  Poet's  brain. 

First  from  the  people's  heart  must  spring 

The  passions  which  he  learns  to  sing ; 

They  are  the  wind,  the  harp  is  he, 

To  voice  their  fitful  melody,  — 

The  language  of  their  varying  fate, 

Their  pride,  grief,  love,  ambition,  hate,  — 

The  talisman  which  holds  inwrought 

The  touchstone  of  the  listener's  thought ; 

That  penetrates  each  vain  disguise. 

And  brings  his  secret  to  his  eyes. 

For,  like  a  solitary  bird 

That  hides  among  the  boughs  unheard 

Until  some  mate,  whose  carol  breaks. 

Its  own  betraying  song  awakes. 

So,  to  its  echo  in  those  lays. 

The  ardent  heart  itself  betrays. 

Crowned  with  a  prophet's  honor,  stands 

The  Poet,  on  Arabian  sands ; 

A  chief,  whose  subjects  love  his  thrall,  — 

The  sympathizing  heart  of  all. 


II. 

Vaunt  not  your  Western  maids  to  me, 
Whose  charms  to  every  gaze  are  free  : 
My  love  is  selfish,  and  would  share 
Scarce  with  the  sun,  or  general  air. 
The  sight  of  beauty  which  has  shone 
Once  for  mine  eyes,  and  mine  alone. 
Love  likes  concealment ;  he  can  dress 
With  fancied  grace  the  loveliness 
That  shrinks  behind  its  virgin  veil, 
As  hides  the  moon  her  forehead  pale 
Behind  a  cloud,  yet  leaves  the  air 


224  AMERICAN  LITER  A  TURE. 

Softer  than  if  her  orb  were  there. 
And  as  the  splendor  of  a  star, 
When  sole  in  heaven,  seems  brighter  far, 
So  shines  the  eye.  Love's  star  and  sun. 
The  brighter,  that  it  shines  alone. 
The  light  from  out  its  darkness  sent 
Is  Passion's  life  and  element ; 
And  when  the  heart  is  warm  and  young, 
Let  but  that  single  ray  be  flung 
Upon  its  surface,  and  the  deep 
Heaves  from  its  unsuspecting  sleep. 
As  heaves  the  ocean  when  its  floor 
Breaks  over  the  volcano's  core. 
Who  thinks  if  cheek  or  hp  be  fair? 
Is  not  all  beauty  centered  where 
The  soul  looks  out,  the  feelings  move. 
And  Love  his  answer  gives  to  love  ? 
Look  on  the  sun,  and  you  will  find 
For  other  sights  your  eyes  are  blind. 
Look  —  if  the  colder  blood  you  share 
Can  give  your  heart  the  strength  to  dare  - 
In  eyes  of  dark  and  tender  fire  : 
What  more  can  blinded  love  desire  ? 


III. 

I  was  a  stripling,  quick  and  bold. 
And  rich  in  pride  as  poor  in  gold. 
When  God's  good  will  my  journey  bent 
One  day  to  Shekh  Abdallah's  tent. 
My  only  treasure  was  a  steed 
Of  Araby's  most  precious  breed  ; 
And  whether  'twas  in  boastful  whim 
To  show  his  mettled  speed  of  limb. 
Or  that  presumption,  which,  in  sooth. 
Becomes  the  careless  brow  of  youth,  — 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  225 

Which  takes  the  world  as  birds  the  air, 

And  moves  in  freedom  everywhere,  — 

It  matters  not.     But  'midst  the  tents 

I  rode  in  easy  confidence, 

Till  to  Abdallah's  door  I  pressed 

And  made  myself  the  old  man's  guest. 

My  "  Peace  be  with  you  !  "  was  returned 

With  the  grave  courtesy  he  learned 

From  age  and  long  authority, 

And  in  God's  name  he  welcomed  me. 

The  pipe  replenished,  with  its  stem 

Of  jasmine  wood  and  amber  gem, 

Was  at  my  lips,  and  while  I  drew 

The  rosy-sweet,  soft  vapor  through 

In  ringlets  of  dissolving  blue. 

Waiting  his  speech  with  reverence  meet, 

A  woman's  garments  brushed  my  feet. 

And  first  through  boyish  senses  ran 

The  pulse  of  love  which  made  me  man. 

The  handmaid  of  her  father's  cheer. 

With  timid  grace  she  gUded  near. 

And,  lightly  dropping  on  her  knee, 

Held  out  a  silver  zerf  to  me, 

Within  whose  cup  the  fragrance  sent 

From  Yemen's  sunburnt  berries  blent 

With  odors  of  the  Persian  rose. 

That  picture  still  in  memory  glows 

With  the  same  heat  as  then,  —  the  gush 

Of  fever,  with  its  fiery  flush 

StartHng  my  blood  ;  and  I  can  see  — 

As  she  this  moment  knelt  to  me  — 

The  shrouded  graces  of  her  form  ; 

The  half-seen  arm,  so  round  and  warm ; 

The  little  hand,  whose  tender  veins 

Branched  through  the  henna's  orange  stains ; 

The  head,  in  act  of  offering  bent ; 


226  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

And  through  the  parted  veil,  which  lent 
A  charm  for  what  it  hid,  the  eye, 
Gazelle-like,  large,  and  dark,  and  shy, 
That  with  a  soft,  sweet  tremble  shone 
Beneath  the  fervor  of  my  own. 
Yet  could  not,  would  not,  turn  away 
The  fascination  of  its  ray, 
But  half  in  pleasure,  half  in  fright, 
Grew  unto  mine,  and  builded  bright 
From  heart  to  heart  a  bridge  of  light. 

IV. 

From  the  fond  trouble  of  my  look 
The  zerf  within  her  fingers  shook, 
As  with  a  start,  like  one  who  breaks 
Some  happy  trance  of  thought,  and  wakes 
Unto  forgotten  toil,  she  rose 
And  passed.     I  saw  the  curtains  close 
Behind  her  steps  :  the  light  was  gone. 
But  in  the  dark  my  heart  dreamed  on. 
Some  random  words  —  thanks  ill  expressed 
I  to  the  stately  Shekh  addressed, 
With  the  intelligence  which  he, 
My  host,  could  not  demand  of  me ; 
How,  wandering  in  the  desert  chase, 
I  spied  from  far  his  camping-place. 
And  Arab  honor  bade  me  halt 
To  break  his  bread  and  share  his  salt. 
Thereto,  fit  reverence  for  his  name, 
The  praise  our  speech  is  quick  to  frame. 
Which,  empty  though  it  seem,  was  dear 
To  the  old  warrior's  willing  ear. 
And  led  his  thoughts,  by  many  a  track. 
To  deeds  of  ancient  prowess  back. 
Until  my  love  could  safely  hide 
Beneath  the  covert  of  his  pride. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRET  HARTE.  Ill 

And  when  his  "  Go  with  God  !  "  was  said, 
Upon  El-Azrek's  back  I  sped 
Into  the  desert,  wide  and  far, 
Beneath  the  silver  evening-star, 
And,  fierce  with  passion,  without  heed 
Urged  o'er  the  sands  my  snorting  steed 
As  if  those  afrites,  feared  of  man,  — 
Who  watch  the  lonely  caravan. 
And,  if  a  loiterer  lags  behind. 
Efface  its  tracks  with  sudden  wind, 
Then  fill  the  air  with  cheating  cries. 
And  make  false  pictures  to  his  eyes 
Till  the  bewildered  sufferer  dies,  — 
Had  breathed  on  me  their  demon  breath, 
And  spurred  me  to  the  hunt  of  Death. 


V. 

Yet  madness  such  as  this  was  worth 
All  the  cool  wisdom  of  the  earth, 
And  sweeter  glowed  its  wild  unrest 
Than  the  old  calm  of  brain  and  breast. 
The  image  of  that  maiden  beamed 
Through  all  I  saw,  or  thought,  or  dreamed, 
Till  she  became,  like  Light  or  Air, 
A  part  of  life.     And  she  shall  share, 
I  vowed,  my  passion  and  my  fate. 
Or  both  shall  fail  me,  soon  or  late. 
In  the  vain  effort  to  possess  ; 
For  Life  lives  only  in  success. 
I  could  not,  in  her  father's  sight. 
Purchase  the  hand  which  was  his  right ; 
And  well  I  knew  how  quick  denied 
The  prayer  would  be  to  empty  pride ; 
But  Heaven  and  Earth  shall  sooner  move 
Than  bar  the  energy  of  Love. 


228  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

The  sinews  of  my  life  became 

Obedient  to  that  single  aim, 

And  desperate  deed  and  patient  thought 

Together  in  its  service  wrought. 

Keen  as  a  falcon,  when  his  eye 

In  search  of  quarry  reads  the  sky, 

I  stole  unseen,  at  eventide. 

Behind  the  well,  upon  whose  side 

The  girls  their  jars  of  water  leaned. 

By  one  long,  sandy  hillock  screened, 

I  watched  the  forms  that  went  and  came, 

With  eyes  that  sparkled  with  the  flame 

Up  from  my  heart  in  flashes  sent. 

As  one  by  one  they  came  and  went 

Amid  the  sunset  radiance  cast 

On  the  red  sands  :  they  came  and  passed, 

And  she,  —  thank  God  !  —  she  came  at  last ! 


Then,  while  her  fair  companion  bound 

The  cord  her  pitcher's  throat  around. 

And  steadied  with  a  careful  hand 

Its  slow  descent,  upon  the  sand 

At  the  Shekh's  daughter's  feet,  I  sped 

A  slender  arrow,  shaft  and  head 

With  breathing  jasmine- flowers  entwined, 

And  roses  such  as  on  the  wind 

Of  evening  with  rich  odors  fan 

The  white  kiosks  of  Ispahan. 

A  moment,  fired  with  love  and  hope, 

I  stayed  upon  the  yeUow  slope 

El-Azrek's  hoofs,  to  see  her  raise 

Her  startled  eyes  in  sweet  amaze, — 

To  see  her  make  the  unconscious  sign 

Which  recognized  the  gift  as  mine. 

And  place,  before  she  turned  to  part, 

The  flowery  barb  against  her  heart. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRET  HARTE.  229 

VII. 

Again  the  Shekh's  divan  I  pressed  : 

The  jasmine  pipe  was  brought  the  guest, 

And  Mariam,  loveHer  than  before, 

Knelt  with  the  steamy  cup  once  more. 

O  bliss  !  within  those  eyes  to  see 

A  soul  of  love  look  out  on  me,  — 

A  fount  of  passion,  which  is  truth 

In  the  wild  dialect  of  Youth, — 

Whose  rich  abundance  is  outpoured 

Like  worship  at  a  shrine  adored, 

And  on  its  rising  deluge  bears 

The  heart  to  raptures  or  despairs. 

While  from  the  cup  the  zerf  contained 

The  foamy  amber  juice  I  drained, 

A  rose-bud  in  the  zerf  expressed 

The  sweet  confession  of  her  breast. 

One  glajice  of  glad  intelligence. 

And  silently  she  glided  thence. 

"  O  Shekh  !  "  I  cried,  as  she  withdrew, 

(Short  is  the  speech  where  hearts  are  true,) 

"  Thou  hast  a  daughter ;  let  me  be 

A  shield  to  her,  a  sword  to  thee  !  " 

Abdallah  turned  his  steady  eye 

Full  on  my  face,  and  made  reply  : 

"  It  cannot  be.     The  treasure  sent 

By  God  must  not  be  idly  spent. 

Strong  men  there  are,  in  service  tried. 

Who  seek  the  maiden  for  a  bride  ; 

And  shall  I  slight  their  worth  and  truth 

To  feed  the  passing  flame  of  youth  ?  " 


VIII. 


"  No  passing  flame  !  "  my  answer  ran ; 
"  But  love  which  is  the  life  of  man. 


230  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

Warmed  with  his  blood,  fed  by  his  breath, 
And,  when  it  fails  him,  leaves  but  Death. 

0  Shekh,  I  hoped  not  thy  consent ; 
But  having  tasted  in  thy  tent 

An  Arab  welcome,  shared  thy  bread, 

1  come  to  warn  thee  I  shall  wed 
Thy  daughter,  though  her  suitors  be 
As  leaves  upon  the  tamarind-tree. 
Guard  her  as  thou  mayst  guard,  I  swear 
No  other  bed  than  mine  shall  wear 
Her  virgin  honors,  and  thy  race 
Through  me  shall  keep  its  ancient  place. 
Thou'rt  warned,  and  duty  bids  no  more ; 
For,  when  I  next  approach  thy  door. 
Her  child  shall  intercessor  be 

To  build  up  peace  'twixt  thee  and  me." 

A  little  flushed  my  boyish  brow ; 

But  calmly  then  I  spake,  as  now. 

The  Shekh,  with  dignity  that  flung 

Rebuke  on  my  impetuous  tongue. 

Replied  :  "  The  young  man's  hopes  are  fair ; 

The  young  man's  blood  would  all  things  dare. 

But  age  is  wisdom,  and  can  bring 

Confusion  on  the  soaring  wing 

Of  reckless  youth.     Thy  words  are  just, 

But  needless  ;  for  I  still  can  trust 

A  father's  jealousy  to  shield 

From  robber  grasp  the  gem  concealed 

Within  his  tent,  till  he  may  yield 

To  fitting  hands  the  precious  store. 

Go,  then,  in  peace ;  but  come  no  more." 

IX. 

My  only  sequin  served  to  bribe 
A  cunning  mother  of  the  tribe 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRET  HARTE.  231 

To  Mariam's  mind  my  plan  to  bring. 
A  feather  of  the  wild  dove's  wing, 
A  lock  of  raven  gloss  and  stain 
Sheared  from  El-Azrek's  flowing  mane 
And  that  pale  flower  whose  fragrant  cup 
Is  closed  until  the  moon  comes  up,  — 
But  then  a  tenderer  beauty  holds 
Than  any  flower  the  sun  unfolds,  — 
Declared  my  purpose.     Her  reply 
Tet  loose  the  wings  of  ecstasy  : 
Two  roses  and  the  moonlight  flower 
Told  the  acceptance,  and  the  hour,  — 
Two  daily  suns  to  waste  their  glow. 
And  then,  at  moonrise,  bliss  —  or  woe. 

X. 

El-Azrek  now,  on  whom  alone 
The  burden  of  our  fate  was  thrown. 
Claimed  from  my  hands  a  double  meed 
Of  careful  training  for  the  deed. 
I  gave  him  of  my  choicest  store,  — 
No  guest  was  ever  honored  more. 
With  flesh  of  kid,  with  whitest  bread 
And  dates  of  Egypt  was  he  fed ; 
The  camel's  heavy  udders  gave 
Their  frothy  juice  his  thirst  to  lave  : 
A  charger,  groomed  with  better  care. 
The  Sultan  never  rode  to  prayer. 
My  burning  hope,  my  torturing  fear, 
I  breathed  in  his  sagacious  ear ; 
Caressed  him  as  a  brother  might, 
Implored  his  utmost  speed  in  flight, 
Hung  on  his  neck  with  many  a  vow. 
And  kissed  the  white  star  on  his  brow. 
His  large  and  lustrous  eyeball  sent 
A  look  which  made  me  confident. 


232  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

As  if  in  me  some  doubt  he  spied, 
And  met  it  with  a  human  pride. 
"  Enough  :  I  trust  thee.     'Tis  the  hour, 
And  I  have  need  of  all  thy  power. 
Without  a  wing,  God  gives  thee  wings. 
And  Fortune  to  thy  forelock  clings." 

XI. 

The  yellow  moon  was  rising  large 

Above  the  Desert's  dusky  marge. 

And  save  the  jackal's  whining  moan, 

Or  distant  camel's  gurgling  groan, 

And  the  lamenting  monotone 

Of  winds  that  breathe  their  vain  desire 

And  on  the  lonely  sands  expire, 

A  silent  charm,  a  breathless  spell. 

Waited  with  me  beside  the  well. 

She  is  not  there,  —  not  yet,  —  but  soon 

A  white  robe  glimmers  in  the  moon. 

Her  little  footsteps  make  no  sound 

On  the  soft  sand ;  and  with  a  bound, 

Where  terror,  doubt,  and  love  unite 

To  blind  her  heart  to  all  but  flight. 

Trembling,  and  panting,  and  oppressed, 

She  threw  herself  upon  my  breast. 

By  Allah  !  like  a  bath  of  flame 

The  seething  blood  tumultuous  came 

From  life's  hot  centre  as  I  drew 

Her  mouth  to  mine  :  our  spirits  grew 

Together  in  one  long,  long  kiss,  — 

One  swooning,  speechless  pulse  of  bliss 

That,  throbbing  from  the  heart's  core  met 

In  the  united  lips.     Oh,  yet 

The  eternal  sweetness  of  that  draught 

Renews  the  thirst  with  which  I  quaffed 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRET  HARTE.  233 

Love's  virgin  vintage  :  starry  fire 
Leapt  from  the  twilights  of  desire, 
And  in  the  golden  dawn  of  dreams 
The  space  grew  warm  with  radiant  beams, 
Which  from  that  kiss  streamed  o'er  a  sea 
Of  rapture,  in  whose  bosorfi  we 
Sank  down,  and  sank  eternally. 


XII. 

Now  nerve  thy  limbs,  El-Azrek  !     Fling 
Thy  head  aloft,  and  like  a  wing 
Spread  on  the  wind  thy  cloudy  mane  ! 
The  hunt  is  up  :  their  stallions  strain 
The  urgent  shoulders  close  behind. 
And  the  wide  nostril  drinks  the  wind. 
But  thou  art,  too,  of  Nedjid's  breed. 
My  brother  !  and  the  falcon's  speed 
Slant  down  the  storm's  advancing  line 
Would  laggard  be  if  matched  with  thine. 
Still  leaping  forward,  whistling  through 
The  moonlight-laden  air,  we  flew ; 
And  from  the  distance,  threateningly. 
Came  the  pursuer's  eager  cry. 
Still  forward,  forward,  stretched  our  flight 
Through  the  long  hours  of  middle  night ; 
One  after  one  the  followers  lagged. 
And  even  my  faithful  Azrek  flagged 
Beneath  his  double  burden,  till 
The  streaks  of  dawn  began  <  d  fill 
The  East,  and  freshening  in  the  race, 
Their  goaded  horses  gained  apace. 
I  drew  my  dagger,  cut  the  girth. 
Tumbled  my  saddle  to  the  earth. 
And  clasped  with  desperate  energies 
My  stallion's  side  with  iron  knees ; 


234  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

While  Mariam,  clinging  to  my  breast, 

The  closer  for  that  peril  pressed. 

They  come  !  they  come  !     Their  shouts  we  hear, 

Now  faint  and  far,  now  fierce  and  near. 

O  brave  El-Azrek  !  on  the  track 

Let  not  one  fainting  sinew  slack. 

Or  know  thine  agony  of  flight 

Endured  in  vain  !     The  purple  light 

Of  breaking  morn  has  come  at  last. 

O  joy  !  the  thirty  leagues  are  past ; 

And,  gleaming  in  the  sunrise,  see. 

The  white  tents  of  the  Aneyzee  ! 

The  warriors  of  the  waste,  the  foes 

Of  Shekh  Abdallah's  tribe,  are  those 

Whose  shelter  and  support  I  claim. 

Which  they  bestow  in  Allah's  name  ; 

While,  wheeling  back,  the  baffled  few 

No  longer  venture  to  pursue. 

xin. 

And  now,  O  Frank  !  if  you  would  see 

How  soft  the  eyes  that  looked  on  me 

Through  Mariam's  silky  lashes,  scan 

Those  of  my  little  Solyman. 

And  should  you  marvel  if  the  child 

His  stately  grandsire  reconciled 

To  that  bold  theft,  when  years  had  brought 

The  golden  portion  which  he  sought. 

And  what  upon  this  theme  befell. 

The  Shekh  himself  can  better  tell. 

I.  Meaning  of  "  Frank."  What  contrast  is  drawn  between 
Eastern  and  Western  methods  of  love-making?  What  is  the  office 
of  the  poet?  H.  Why  is  the  veiled  face  of  Eastern  maids  to  be 
preferred  ?  Why  does  he  pay  such  a  tribute  to  the  beauty  of  the 
eyes  and  the  significance  of  their  glances?  How  much  of  love 
can  they  express?     HI.    Who  was  Amram?     What  were  his  cir- 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRET  HARTE.  235 

cumstances  ?  Describe  the  instance  of  Eastern  hospitality.  What 
caused  the  maiden  to  appear  ?  Who  was  she  ?  What  were  her 
charms?  How  did  the  guest  show  his  emotion?  How  did  the 
maiden  respond ?  IV.  What  was  the  maiden's  behavior?  Is  the 
guest's  heart  touched  ?  Does  he  attach  importance  to  it  ?  What 
does  he  do?  V.  Does  he  enjoy  his  "madness"?  What  is  his 
resolution?  How  does  he  proceed  to  carry  it  out?  VI.  How 
does  he  declare  his  love?  How  is  it  accepted?  VII.  Why  does 
he  visit  the  Shekh  again  ?  How  is  he  repaid  ?  How  does  Mariam 
confess  her  love  ?  Tell  the  meaning  of  the  brief  poetic  request  of 
the  lover.  Why  does  the  Shekh  refuse?  VIII.  How  does  the 
lover  resent  the  imputation  upon  the  permanence  of  the  flame? 
Is  he  discouraged  by  the  answer  he  gets  ?  Why  does  he  warn  the 
Shekh  ?  Is  the  Shekh  afraid  ?  IX.  How  does  he  propose  a  plan 
of  elopement  to  Mariam?  What  is  the  plan?  Does  she  under- 
stand? Does  she  accept?  How  does  she  indicate  the  time? 
X.  Why  does  he  caress  his  horse?  XI.  When  do  they  meet? 
How  do  they  meet?  What  have  these  lovers  said  to  each  other? 
Does  it  seem  necessary  that  anything  should  have  been  said? 
Does  the  courtship  seem  to  have  been  more  or  less  poetic  than 
the  conventional  ones  of  Western  civilization?  XII.  Describe 
the  pursuit.     XIII.   Are  all  satisfied  ? 

Mention  the  peculiar  customs  you  notice.  How  does  the  poet 
produce  the  Arabian  atmosphere?  Does  the  poet  feel  the  life  as 
well  as  he  sees  it?  Does  the  artist  or  the  man  speak  first  in 
selecting  this  theme?  Select  the  sentiments  in  regard  to  love. 
Which  do  you  prefer?  Which  of  the  thirteen  parts  do  you  think 
most  beautiful?  Characterize  the  love  shown  here  with  all  the 
adjectives  that  seem  appropriate. 

THE  QUAKER   WIDOW. 
I. 
Thee  finds  me  in  the  garden,  Hannah,  —  come  in  !  'Tis  kind  of  thee 
To  wait  until  the  Friends  were  gone,  who  came  to  comfort  me. 
The  still  and  quiet  company  a  peace  may  give,  indeed. 
But  blessed  is  the  single  heart  that  comes  to  us  at  need. 


236  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Come,  sit  thee  down  !  Here  is  the  bench  where  Benjamin  would  sit 
On  First-day  afternoons  in  spring,  and  watch  the  swallows  flit : 
He  loved  to  smell  the  sprouting  box,  and  hear  the  pleasant  bees 
Go  humming  round  the  lilacs  and  through  the  apple-trees. 


I  think  he  loved  the  spring  :  not  that  he  cared  for  flowers  :  most 

men 
Think  such  things  foolishness,  —  but  we  were  first  acquainted  then, 
One  spring  :  the  next  he  spoke  his  mind  ;  the  third  I  was  his  wife, 
And  in  the  spring  (it  happened  so)  our  children  entered  Ufe. 


He  was  but  seventy-five  :  I  did  not  think  to  lay  him  yet 
In  Kennett  graveyard,  where  at  Monthly  Meeting  first  we  met. 
The  Father's  mercy  shows  in  this  :  'tis  better  I  should  be 
Picked  out  to  bear  the  heavy  cross  —  alone  in  age  —  than  he. 


We've  Hved  together  fifty  years  :  it  seems  but  one  long  day, 
One  quiet  Sabbath  of  the  heart,  till  he  was  called  away ; 
And  as  we  bring  from  Meeting-time  a  sweet  contentment  home. 
So,  Hannah,  I  have  store  of  peace  for  all  the  days  to  come. 


I  mind  (for  I  can  tell  thee  now)  how  hard  it  was  to  know 
If  I  had  heard  the  spirit  right,  that  told  me  I  should  go; 
For  father  had  a  deep  concern  upon  his  mind  that  day. 
But  mother  spoke  for  Benjamin,  —  she  knew  what  best  to  say. 

VII. 

Then  she  was  still :  they  sat  awhile  :  at  last  she  spoke  again, 
*'The  Lord  incline  thee  to  the  right !"  and  "Thou  shalt  have  him, 

Jane  ! " 
My  father  said.     I  cried.     Indeed,  'twas  not  the  least  of  shocks, 
For  Benjamin  was  Hicksite,  and  father  Orthodox. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE   TO  BRET  HARTE.  237 


I  thought  of  this  ten  years  ago,  when  daughter  Ruth  we  lost : 
Her  husband's  of  the  world,  and  yet  I  could  not  see  her  crossed. 
She  wears,  thee  knows,  the  gayest  gowns,  she   hears  a  hireling 

priest  — 
Ah,  dear  !  the  cross  was  ours  :  her  life's  a  happy  one,  at  least. 

IX. 

Perhaps  she'll  wear  a  plainer  dress  when  she's  as  old  as  I,  — 
Would  thee  believe  it,  Hannah  ?  once  /  felt  temptation  nigh  ! 
My  wedding-gown  was  ashen  silk,  too  simple  for  my  taste  : 
I  wanted  lace  around  the  neck,  and  a  ribbon  at  the  waist. 


How  strange  it  seemed  to  sit  with  him  upon  the  woman's  side  ! 
I  did  not  dare  to  lift  my  eyes  :  I  felt  more  fear  than  pride, 
Till,  *'  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord,"  he  said,  and  then  there  came 
A  holy  strength  upon  my  heart,  and  I  could  say  the  same. 

XI. 

I  used  to  blush  when  he  came  near,  but  then  I  showed  no  sign ; 
With  all  the  meeting  looking  on,  I  held  his  hand  in  mine. 
It  seemed  my  bashfulness  was  gone,  now  I  was  his  for  Hfe  : 
Thee  knows  the  feeling,  Hannah,  —  thee,  too,  hast  been  a  wife. 


As  home  we  rode,  I  saw  no  fields  look  half  so  green  as  ours ; 
The  woods  were  coming  into  leaf,  the  meadows  full  of  flowers ; 
The  neighbors  met  us  in  the  lane,  and  every  face  was  kind,  — 
'Tis  strange  how  Kvely  everything  comes  back  upon  my  mind. 

XIII. 

I  see,  as  plain  as  thee  sits  there,  the  wedding-dinner  spread  : 
At  our  own  table  we  were  guests,  with  father  at  the  head. 
And  Dinah  Passmore  helped  us  both,  —  'twas  she  stood  up  with  me. 
And  Abner  Jones  with  Benjamin,  —  and  now  they're  gone,  all 
three  ! 


238  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

XIV. 

It  is  not  right  to  wish  for  death ;  the  Lord  disposes  best. 
His  Spirit  comes  to  quiet  hearts,  and  fits  them  for  His  rest ; 
And  that  He  halved  our  Uttle  flock  was  merciful,  I  see  : 
For  Benjamin  has  two  in  heaven,  and  two  are  left  with  me. 

XV. 

Eusebius  never  cared  to  farm,  —  'twas  not  his  call,  in  truth, 
And  I  must  rent  the  dear  old  place,  and  go  to  daughter  Ruth. 
Thee'U  say  her  ways  are  not  like  mine,  —  young  people  nowadays 
Have  fallen  sadly  off,  I  think,  from  all  the  good  old  ways. 

XVI. 

But  Ruth  is  still  a  Friend  at  heart ;  she  keeps  the  simple  tongue. 
The  cheerful,  kindly  nature  we  loved  when  she  was  young ; 
And  it  was  brought  upon  my  mind,  remembering  her,  of  late. 
That  we  on  dress  and  outward  things  perhaps  lay  too  much  weight. 

XVII. 

I  once  heard  Jesse  Kersey  say,  a%pirit  clothed  with  grace, 
And  pure,  almost,  as  angels  are,  may  have  a  homely  face. 
And  dress  may  be  of  less  account :  the  Lord  will  look  within  : 
The  soul  it  is  that  testifies  of  righteousness  or  sin. 

XVIII. 

Thee  mustn't  be  too  hard  on  Ruth  :  she's  anxious  I  should  go, 
And  she  will  do  her  duty  as  a  daughter  should,  I  know. 
'Tis  hard  to  change  so  late  in  Hfe,  but  we  must  be  resigned  : 
The  Lord  looks  down  contentedly  upon  a  willing  mind. 

Notice  the  great  contrast  between  this  love  story  and  "  Amran's 
Wooing."  Any  romance,  color  or  adventure  connected  with  this 
courtship?  What  was  the  only  objection  to  the  lover?  How  is 
the  intensity  of  the  bride's  joy  shown  through  her  quiet  manner? 
What  has  happened  to  the  family?  To  whom  is  she  talking? 
About  what?  What  spirit  does  she  show?  How  is  the  Quaker 
atmosphere  produced?  Characterize  the  love  shown  here  with  all 
the  adjectives  that  seem  appropriate. 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO  BRET  HARTE.  239 


LARS. 

[This  poem  can  be  bought  in  No.  i6  of  the  "  Riverside  Literature  Series  "  for 
15  cents.] 

This  idyl  ranks  with  the  best  produced  in  this  country  and 
therefore  deserves  careful  study.  Read  it  in  class  with  comments, 
questions  and  explanations.  Reproduce  it  in  your  own  language. 
Compare  it  in  motives,  characters,  situations  and  environment 
with  Longfellow's  "Evangeline"  (No.  i,  "  Riv.  Lit.  Series"). 

General.  —  What  books  of  travel  has  the  author  written? 
Have  you  read  any  of  them?  What  qualities  do  they  show? 
What  novels  has  he  written  ?  Give  an  outline  of  any  you  have 
read.  Select  and  study  his  narrative  poems.  Do  you  find  any 
American  poet  excelling  him  in  this  field  ?  Where  are  the  scenes 
usually  laid  ?  Which  division  of  the  complete  edition  of  the  poems 
do  you  think  most  characteristic  ?  What  motive  predominates  in 
his  lyrics  ?  Do  you  find  a  variety  of  lyrical  motives  ?  Of  lyrical 
measures  ?  Do  you  find  poems  upon  slavery  ?  Upon  patriotism  ? 
Compare  his  "  National  Ode  "  with  Lanier's  "  From  this  Hundred 
Terraced  Height"  and  Lowell's  "Commemoration  Ode." 

William  Gilmore  Simms  (i 816-1870),  John  Esten  Cooke 
( 1 830-1 886),  John  Pendleton  Kennedy  (1795-18 70),  Paul 
Hayne  (i 831-1886),  are  a  few  of  the  names  of  Southern  writers 
who  attained  eminence.     We  have  been  hearing  more  from  the 
South  of  late,  and  are  likely  to  hear   more   yet   in 
the    future  :    indeed,  it   is   more    than   possible    that  galaxy .^"^ 
another   generation   may  find   us  receiving  our  best 
literature    from   that   part   of  our   country.      But  in  the  South, 
before  the  war,  Hterature  was  an   almost  discredited  profession, 
and   it   required   some  genius  and  more  courage  to  venture  to 
write    at   all.      To   be    a   literary   man   by   profession   was   rare 
indeed :    most  Southern  authors    of  this    period    followed   other 
callings    for    a   HveHhood :    lawyers,    especially,    showed    a    ten- 
dency to   dabble   in  literature   in  their  idle   moments.     Men  of 


240  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

commanding  genius  were  plentiful  in  the  Southern  States  :  but 
their  genius  was  applied  to  other  matters  than  the  multiplying  of 
books.  They  were  statesmen,  orators,  jurists,  planters,  but  not 
writers.  Nor  was  the  reading  class  sufficiently  large  and  constant 
to  support  writers,  had  there  been  many  of  them. 

Simms  himself  began  life  as  a  lawyer,  but  the  literary  instinct 
proved  too  strong  for  him,  and,  to  his  own  financial  cost,  he  yielded 

to  it.  He  was  a  versatile  and  diligent  author,  en- 
foSerf*       gaging   in    many  branches  of  literary  work.      Of  all 

that  he  did,  his  novels  alone  survive,  and  even  they 
belong  to  a  style  of  romance  no  longer  in  vogue.  They  are 
modelled  upon  the  Hnes  laid  down  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  are 
full  of  intrigue,  incident  and  action,  with  a  Southern  historical 
background.  Their  faults  are  largely  due  to  the  time  and  con- 
ditions in  which  Simms  wrote ;  he  deserves  credit  for  his  vigorous 
effort  to  found  a  Southern  literature.  John  Esten  Cooke,  of 
Cooke  the  Virginia,  was  almost  as  industrious,  as  Simms,  and 
Virginia  showed  a  finer  quality  of  imagination.  His  "The 
c  0  c  er.  Virginia  Comedians "  is  a  good  novel,  surpassing 
Simms's  "Yemassee,"  and  fairly  meriting  the  reputation  of  being 
the  best  ante-bellum  story  published  in  the  South.  Both  writers 
missed  an  opportunity  by  not  describing  Southern  life  as  it  was  at 
the  time  they  wrote  —  a  mistake  not  made  by  later  authors  of 
that  region.  They  wrote  good  Enghsh,  they  ardently  loved  their 
country  and  they  recognized  the  artistic  value  of  their  materials ; 
but  they  failed  to  take  the  best  advantage  of  them.  Kennedy, 
Kennedy  and  ^^^  friend  of  Poe,  was  born  in  Baltimore,  was  famous 
"SwaUow  as  the  author  of  "Swallow  Barn"  before  Poe  took 
^*"^*"  the  prize  offered  by  the  "  Saturday  Visitor  "  with  his 

"  Manuscript  found  in  a  Bottle."  "  Swallow  Barn  "  is  a  quiet  and 
agreeable  story  of  country  life  in  Virginia,  and  it  has  remained  the 
most  popular  of  Kennedy's  novels.  He  was  a  lawyer  by  profession, 
and  once  filled  a  post  in  the  Cabinet  at  Washington.  Paul  Hamilton 
Hayne  was  a  poet  exclusively,  and,  with  the  exception  of  Poe,  was 
the  truest  poet  of  the  South.  A  selection  of  his  best  productions 
would  show  verses,  and  entire  poems,  not  unworthy  to  be  com- 


FROM  HAWTHORNE    TO   BRET  HARTE.  241 

pared  with  any  save  the  very  best  written  in  this  country.     He  did 

not  sufficiently  concentrate  his  powers  :  but  the  music 

and  loveliness  of  his  quieter  pieces,  and  the  passionate   J^^^  *^* 

emotion  of  his  war-lyrics,  win  the  heart  and  stir  the 

pulse.      South  Carohna  and  Georgia  have  found  no  laureate  so 

sympathetic  and  eloquent  as  he.    Among  his  best  poems  are  "  The 

Pine's  Mystery,"  "  Forecastings,"  the  sonnet  "  Earth  Odors  after 

Rain,"  the  historical  lyric  "The  Battle  of  King's  Mountain,"  and 

the  dramatic  sketch  "  Antonio  Melidori." 

Other  Southern  writers  who  may  be  mentioned  in  this  place  are 
William  Wirt,  author  of  "  Life  of  Patrick  Henry " ;  Charles 
6tienne  Gayarre,  historian  and  dramatist ;  Augustus 
B.  Longstreet,  author  of  "  Georgia  Scenes  "  ;  Richard  ^tg^"*" 
Henry  Wilde,  who  wrote  the  poem  "  My  Life  is  hke 
the  Summer  Rose  " ;  Joseph  G.  Baldwin,  who  wrote  "  Flush  Times 
of  Alabama  and  Mississippi"  ;  and  the  well-known  women  novelists, 
Mrs.  E.  D.  E.  N.  Southworth,  and  Miss  Augusta  J.  Evans. 

The  name  of  Edmund  Quincy  (1808-1877)  appears  only  in 
the  more  exhaustive  of  our  literary  anthologies ;  yet  it  designates 
one  of  the  most  charming  writers  as  well  as  the  most  reticent 
novelist  in  the  United  States.  He  was  the  son  of  Josiah  Quincy, 
president  of  Harvard  College,  and  its  historian.  Edmund,  who 
graduated  from  Harvard  in  1827,  was  a  man  of  fine  scholarship,  a 
gentleman  of  the  purest  type,  a  refined  but  genuine  humorist. 
The  chief  energies  of  his  life  were  devoted  to  the  anti-slavery 
cause,  and  his  writings  on  this  subject  would  fill  many  volumes. 
But  to  literature  proper  his  contributions  were,  as  has  been  inti- 
mated, exceeding  few.  He  wrote  but  a  single  novel — "Wensley  " 
—  a  volume  of  less  than  two  hundred  and  fifty  short  pages ;  and 
in  addition  some  half-dozen  brief  stories.  "  Wensley  '^  overflows 
with  delicate  and  spontaneous  humor ;  it  is  written  in  a  style  of 
cultivated  and  spontaneous  colloquialism  :  the  characterization  is 
distinct  and  admirable,  the  literary  quality  incontestable,  and  the 
story  itself,  though  conceived  in  the  quiet  key  of  the  novels  of 
Jane  Austen,  has  an  absorbing  interest.  The  shorter  sketches  are 
not  less  charming  on  a  small  scale. 


242  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

We  may  conclude  this  chapter  with  the  names  of  Donald  G. 
Mitchell  ("Ik  Marvel")  (1822-),  author  of  "Reveries  of  a 
Numerous  Bachelor  "  and  "  Dream-Life,"  and  of  many  popular 
writers  of  books  for  boys ;  Richard  B.  Kimball  (181 6-) ,  author 
lesser  fame,  ^f  u  g^^  Lgg^j.  n  .  j^  ^  Gilmore  ("  Edward  Kirke  ") 
(1823-),  author  of  "  Among  the  Pines,"  and  other  stories  of  the 
Civil  War;  Mrs.  A.  D.  T.  Whitney  (1824-),  author  of  "Faith 
Gartney's  Girlhood";  John  G.  Saxe  (1816-1887),  a  humorous 
and  satirical  poet  of  the  better  class,  author  of  *^The  Proud 
Miss  McBride,"  and  "The  Rhyme  of  the  Rail " ;  and  George  H. 
Boker  (1824-),  a  poet,  and  a  successful  dramatist,  whose  play 
of  "  Francesca  di  Rimini "  was  recently  revived  by  Lawrence 
Barrett,  the  actor,  and  was  received  with  popular  favor. 


THE  INNOVATORS.  2^3 


THE   INNOVATORS. 

The  period  we  have  just  been  considering  is  an  anomalous  one, 
and  should  be  regarded  from  the  point  of  view  of  state  rather 
than  of  time,  including  as  it  does  writers  and  writings  not  of  the 
first  class,  though  often  contemporary  with  those  that  were  so. 
The  writers  in  question  neither  attained  the  highest  excellence, 
nor  did  any  of  them  indicate  a  new  departure  from  established 
models  and  precedents.  They  were  repetitions,  on  a  minor 
scale,  of  what  was  in  existence,  or  had  existed.  But,  in  due 
course,  the  hour  arrived  when  a  fresh  element  was  to  make  its 
appearance. 

This  element  presented  itself  under  several  outwardly  differing 
forms,  and  can  be  credited  to  no  particular  person  or  event.  It 
was  due  to  the  natural  progress  of  the  mysterious  law 
of  growth  which  affects  literature,  science  and  society  ^jg^g^'l 
alike,  and  is,  after  all,  the  real  basis  of  progress.  The 
nominal  individuals  who  illustrate  or  express  it  are  comparatively 
unimportant,  though  they  will  always  and  necessarily  be  associated 
with  it :  they  are  often  arrayed  in  seeming  opposition  to  one 
another ;  and  occasionally  one  or  other  of  them  may  chip  the 
egg,  as  it  were,  some  while  before  the  ear  of  the  world  is  attuned 
to  hear  him  peep.  Walt  Whitman  —  to  use  an  apposite  example 
—  published  his  "  Leaves  of  Grass  "  in  1855  :  but  the  public  was 
not  then  in  a  mood  seriously  to  consider  his  claims,  and  nearly 
twenty  years  passed  before  he  was  competently  criticised.  Bret 
Harte,  on  the  contrary,  raised  his  voice  precisely  at  the  right 
moment :  he  came  so  pat  to  the  new  dispensation  that  he  was 
identified  with  it.  Frank  Stockton,  again,  though  a  little  behind 
time  in  his  arrival,  should  yet  be  included  among  the  innovators. 


244 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


We  can  judge  of  the  importance  of  this  departure  by  reflecting 
how  impossible  it  would  be  to  go  back  to  the  point  at  which  it 
found  us.  The  new  writers  themselves  have  not,  perhaps,  taught 
us  much;  but,   in  one   way  or  another,   the  literary  world   has 

accomplished  a  marked  growth  in  the  past  twenty 
have^tS^^    years.     The  old  order  changes,  giving  place  to  new. 

The  great  writers  of  the  past  are  not,  of  course, 
superseded  ;  they  are  intrinsically  absolute  ;  in  advance  of  or  aside 
from  the  general  growth.  But  the  general  average  of  quality 
advances,  and  the  work  of  the  hack-writer  becomes,  in  point  of 
technique  and  handling,  as  good  as  that  of  the  men  of  talent  of  a 
generation  ago. 


Francis  Bret  Harte  (1839-)  was  born  in  Albany,  New  York, 
the  son  of  a  man  of  fine  education,  who  taught  school  for  a  living. 
After  leaving  school,  Harte,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  journeyed  to 
History  of  a  California  in  quest  of  fortune.  At  first  he  followed  in 
brilliant  his  father's  footsteps  as  a  school-teacher ;  afterwards 
innovator.  j^^  \.qqY  his  turn  in  the  mines ;  later  still  he  got  a  job 
as  compositor  in  a  printing-office ;  and  finally  undertook  the  edit- 
ing of  a  local  newspaper.     From  editing  the  contributions  of  other 

writers,  he  naturally  proceeded  to 
printing  articles  and  sketches  of  his 
own ;  and  thus  insensibly  entered 
upon  a  literary  career.  In  1867 
he  published  a  small  volume  of 
"  Condensed  Novels  "  —  terse  par- 
odies of  the  work  of  leading  novel- 
ists of  Europe  and  America.  The 
following  year  he  was  connected 
with  a  famous  California  magazine, 
—  "  The  Overland  Monthly,"  — 
and  in  its  pages  were  published  the 
tales  that  made  him  speedily  known 
xs^   '  to  the  English-speaking  world  as  a 

Francis  Bret  Harte.  ncw  gcnius  in  literature.     In  1870 


THE  INNOVATORS.  245 

he  came  to  Boston,  and  for  a  time  was  under  contract  with 
Fields,  Osgood  &  Co.,  at  a  salary  of  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year, 
to  write  for  "The  Atlantic  Monthly"  exclusively.  A  few  years 
later  he  received  an  appointment  as  consul  to  Crefeld  in  Ger- 
many, but  was  subsequently  transferred  to  the  more  lucrative  post 
of  Glasgow,  in  Scotland.  He  spent  most  of  his  time  in  London, 
and  was  a  social  favorite  there  :  his  writings  have  always  had  a 
large  English  market.  He  still  lives  in  England,  writing,  at  irregu- 
lar intervals,  stories  and  short  novels,  usually  with  a  Californian 
background. 

Harte  has  strong  and  sympathetic  powers  of  observation,  keen 
dramatic  instinct,  ready  humor  and  a  point  of  view  that  is  liberal 
to  the  limits  of  conventionality,  or  beyond  them.  The  sudden 
change,  while  he  was  yet  a  boy,  from  the  strictness  and  narrow- 
ness of  his  home  surroundings,  to  the  absolute  lawlessness  and 
irregularity  of  western  life,  produced  a  profound  impression  upon 
him,  never  to  be  effaced.  His  earliest  essays  in  literature  —  con- 
ceived, probably,  on  hackneyed  lines  —  were  according  to  his 
own  account  unsuccessful :  but  he  was  not  long  in  declaring  his 
independence,  though  a  flavor  of  Dickens  is  still  occasionally  per- 
ceptible in  his  work.  But  his  essential  separateness  is  indicated 
by  the  extraordinary  accuracy  with  which,  in  the  "  Condensed 
Novels,"  he  caught  the  very  spirit  of  the  style  of  thought  and 
language  of  a  dozen  different  writers.  His  own  style,  as  finally 
formed,  leaves  little  to  be  desired ;  it  is  clear,  flexible,  virile, 
laconic  and  withal  graceful.  Its  full  meaning  is  given  to  every 
word,  and  occasionally,  like  all  original  masters  of 
prose,  he  imparts  into  a  familiar  word  a  racier  sig-  ^"g^^o^es 
nificance  than  it  had  possessed  before.  His  genius 
is  nowhere  more  unmistakable  than  in  the  handling  of  his  stories, 
which  is  terse  to  the  point  of  severity,  yet  wholly  adequate ; 
everything  necessary  to  the  matter  in  hand  is  told,  but  with 
an  economy  of  word  and  phrase  that  betokens  a  powerful  and 
radical  conception.  Nothing  in  his  plots  or  characters  is  con- 
ventional ;  they  are  aspects  of  genuine  life,  selected  and  seen 
with  surpassing  skill  and  insight.     No  time  is  wasted  in  intro- 


246  AMERICAN  LITERA  TCJRE. 

ductions,  explanations  or  analyses  :  the  reader  is  conveyed  at 
once  to  the  centre  of  dramatic  interest,  and  is  kept  there  till 
the  end.  Character  is  his  special  quarry  :  he  puts  a  human  type 
before  us  in  a  few  shaping  strokes,  and  never  afterwards  lays  on 
a  touch  amiss,  or  lapses  into  an  inconsistency.  But  his  brief 
descriptions  of  scenery  and  of  action  are  vivid  and  comprehensive  ; 
they  interpret  or  enhance,  but  never  delay  or  confuse  the  dramatic 
issue.  His  humor  is  subtle  and  contagious,  though  not  always 
entirely  legitimate ;  he  is  too  apt  to  poke  fun  at  his  char- 
acters —  to  archly  and  demurely  comment  upon  their  oddities 
and  absurdities  —  instead  of  allowing  them  to  work  out  their  own 
comicality.  This  is  a  trick  derived  from  Dickens,  and  not  alto- 
gether a  desirable  one. 

The  first  success  of  Harte's  stories  was  no  doubt  due  in  part 
to  the  novelty  of  the  scenes  and  characters  that  he  described. 
The  men  of  '49  had  left  civiHzation  behind  them,  and  lived  for 
several  years  in  circumstances  that  brought  to  the  surface  the 
elemental  good  and  evil  of  human  nature.  They  took  all  laws  into 
their  own  hands,  and  their  only  judge  was  Judge  Lynch.  They 
experienced  alternately  the  extremes  of  poverty  and  affluence ; 
they  worked  and  slept  with  danger  and  death  for  companions. 
Traces  of  a  barbaric  and  capricious  sort  of  chivalry  occasionally 
were  visible  in  them,  side  by  side  with  remorseless  cruelty  and 
savage  excesses.  Men  of  education  and  good  breeding  mingled 
with  men  who  had  been  ruffians  from  the  cradle,  and  the  former 
often  proved  themselves  the  greater  ruffians  of  the  two.  Women 
were  scarce  in  these  wild  camps,  and  they  became  not  less  reck- 
less and  desperate  than  their  mates.  All  this  constituted  splendid 
material  for  the  romancer,  and  Harte  showed  his  appreciation  of 
it  by  depicting  its  characteristic  phases  precisely  as  they  appeared 
to  him.  The  squalid,  the  base,  the  wicked  elements  of  the  picture 
are  presented  with  unflinching  veracity :  but  he  also  sought  out 
and  reproduced  the  gleams  of  brightness  in  the  dark  —  the  nobility 
of  self-abnegation,  and  the  passion  of  love ;  the  fierce  courage 
that  faced  death  with  a  jest ;  even  the  delicate  tact  which  some- 
times made  lovely  the  manifestations  of  those  rugged  natures,  as 


THE  INNOVATORS.  247 

wild  flowers  soften  the  stern  face  of  the  rock.  He  portrayed,  in 
short,  the  inextricable  intertwining  of  good  and  evil  in  man ;  so 
that  the  unspoken  moral  of  all  his  stories  is  a  deeper  and  more 
reverent  charity.  It  was  not  a  new  message,  but  it  was  conveyed 
in  a  new  voice,  with  fresh  illustrations ;  and  it  had  its  effect,  not 
on  literature  only,  but  on  the  human  heart. 

All  this  was  done  within  the  compass  of  some  fifty  printed 
pages.  Harte's  first  half-dozen  stories  were  his  best,  and  they 
also  contained  the  elements  of  everything  of  consequence  that  he 
has  written  since.  His  canvas  was  as  narrow  as  it  was  brilliant. 
But  it  would  be  difficult  to  praise  these  half-dozen  stories  too 
highly.  It  is  difficult  to  see  how  they  would  have  been  done 
better :  as  a  matter  of  fact,  nothing  of  the  kind  has  ever  been 
better  done.  "  The  Outcasts  of  Poker  Flat "  is  so  nearly  perfect 
that  criticism  may  be  challenged  to  point  out  a  sentence  in  it  that 
could  profitably  be  altered.  It  may  be  read  in  a  few  minutes, 
and  not  forgotten  in  a  lifetime.  "  The  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp," 
"  Higgles,"  "  Tennessee's  Partner,"  "  Brown  of  Calavaras,"  "  How 
Santa  Clause  came  to  Simpson's  Bar,"  —  these  are  scarcely  inferior 
in  conception  and  workmanship.  No  lesser  word  than  genius 
describes  such  work  as  this :  and  lapse  of  time,  nor  competition, 
nor  even  less  meritorious  work  of  his  own,  can  lessen  Harte's 
renown  for  these  achievements. 

It  would  have  been  well  for  him,  indeed,  had  he  never  written 
anything  else  than  those  early  stories.  He  had  run  his  course, 
and  thereafter  he  could  only  go  over  the  same  ground  again  with 
flagging  energies  and  wavering  purpose.  The  epic  of  the  Argo- 
nauts was  a  great  epic,  but  it  could  be  sung  effectively  but  once. 
The  material  was  magnificent,  but  it  was  strictly  limited.  And 
Harte's  genius  seems  to  have  been  competent  to  nothing  else. 
The  few  tales  of  his  whose  background  and  characters  were  other 
than  Californian  were  comparative  failures.  Nor  could  he  do  so 
well  on  a  larger  scale  than  that  of  the  short  story.  His  novel 
of  "  Gabriel  Conroy,"  of  which  much  was  hoped,  turned  out  to 
be  a  mere  succession  of  episodes,  whose  combination  weakened 
instead  of  strengthening  their  general  effect.     His  subsequent  pro- 


248  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

ductions,  though  never  destitute  of  value,  have  not  the  supreme 
merit  of  his  first  group.  And  the  moral  perversity  of  his  charac- 
ters, which  served  but  as  artistic  shadows  in  his  briefer  narratives, 
became  predominant  and  painful  in  the  longer  works. 

Beside  his  prose  writings,  Harte  is  the  author  of  a  considerable 
body  of  poetry,  scarcely  less  original  in  its  character,  and  often 
powerful,  dramatic  and  touching ;  though  much  of  it  depends  for 
its  popularity  upon  eccentric  and  rather  extravagant  humor.  The 
best-known  example  of  the  latter  type  is  "  The  Heathen  Chinee," 
composed  in  a  whimsical  moment,  and  inserted  by  the  author  to 
fill  up  an  unfinished  column.  It  instantly  caught  the  fancy  of  the 
nation,  and  doubtless  no  poem  of  the  generation  is  so  widely 
known.  Harte  makes  a  free  use  of  the  California  dialect  in  his 
verse,  and  may  be  regarded  as  the  originator  of  a  dialect  poetry 
that  has  latterly  attained  so  overwhelming  a  vogue.  Lowell's 
"  Biglow  Papers,"  witty  and  clever  though  they  were,  never  stimu- 
lated the  imitation  that  has  followed  Harte. 

A  volume  of  moderate  dimensions  will  contain  all  that  posterity 
is  likely  to  preser\'e  of  Harte's  work ;  but  the  volume  will  stand 
on  a  level  with  the  best  literary  product  of  the  nation. 

Cincinnatus   Hiner   (<< Joaquin*')   Miller   (1841-).      The 

mark  of  Harte's  literary  style  is  its  maturity,  self-poise  and  worldly 

sagacity;  that  of  Miller's  is  its  almost  childlike  spontaneity  and 

impetuous  artlessness.    Miller's  temperament  is  essen- 

A  sponta-  tially  passionate  and  juvenile  :  his  intellect  is  under 
neons  poet.  ^    ^  •" 

the  dominion  of  his  emotions  :  his  thought  is  colored 

by  his  loves  and  hates.  This  coloring  is  always  warm,  and  some- 
times gorgeous  to  the  point  of  being  barbaric.  He  has  not  Harte's 
distinctness  and  deliberation  of  touch  ;  he  is  always  in  movement, 
and  his  scenes  and  persons  are  enveloped  in  a  vague  and  sump- 
tuous atmosphere.  He  cares  little  for  form  and  outline  in  com- 
parison with  quality  and  feeUng.  He  is  a  born  poet  in  his  own 
region  of  poetry,  though  his  genius  was  hampered  by  extraneous* 
circumstances. 

Miller  was  born  in  Indiana,  but  accompanied  his  father  to  Ore- 


THE   INNOVATORS.  249 

gon  in  1853,  and  for  a  time  worked  on  a  farm  there.  Agriculture, 
however,  was  not  to  his  taste,  and  schooUng  probably  still  less  so : 
his  only  education  consisted  in  reading  the  few  books  that  came 
in  his  way,  among  which  a  volume  of  Byron  was  his  favorite.  At 
the  age  of  sixteen  he  left  his  home  and  went  to  CaUfornia,  where 
he  labored  as  a  miner.  A  little  later  he  formed  one 
of  the  band  of  adventurers  that  followed  Walker  to  ^1?^*^^" 
Nicaragua  :  and  for  a  time  he  joined  a  tribe  of  Indians, 
and  lived  with  them  as  one  of  themselves.  After  four  years  of  a 
hazardous  and  romantic  existence  he  found  his  way  back  to  Oregon, 
and  began,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  the  study  of  law.  But  this  in 
turn  was  thrown  aside,  and  for  a  year  he  rode  between  the  gold- 
districts  of  Idaho  as  express-messenger  for  the  mining-camps.  A 
Httle  later  he  was  editing  a  weekly  newspaper:  in  1866  he  was 
elected  judge  in  Eastern  Oregon,  and  kept  the  bench  for  four 
years.  It  was  at  this  epoch  that  he  began  to  be  known  as  a  poet, 
though  he  had  composed  rhymes  from  an  early  period,  and,  hke 
Homer,  had  recited  them  to  his  frontier  companions.  But  in  1870 
his  "  Songs  of  the  Sierras "  were  published  in  a  volume,  and 
attracted  immediate  notice  both  in  this  country  and  in  England. 
So  emphatic,  indeed,  was  the  English  voice  of  approval,  that  Miller 
was  encouraged  to  sail  for  Europe. 

His  success  in  London,  both  literary  and  social,  was  phenome- 
nal.   His  books  sold  by  thousands ;  he  was  a  welcome  guest  at  the 
best  houses,  and  he  made  many  cordial  and  life-long  friends.     He 
was  regarded  as  a  characteristic  American  product,  and  was,  per- 
haps, occasionally  tempted  humorously  to  indulge  the  fancy  of  his 
entertainers.     But  Miller  was  a  genuine  man  and  poet  beneath  all 
his  affectations.     Critics  sought  in  his  poetry  for  things  that  were 
not  to  be  found  there,  and  presently  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
he  lacked  culture  —  a  discovery  that  could  hardly  have  surprised 
a  man  who  had  lived  the  life  of  a  frontiersman  for 
thirty  years,  whose  study  had  been  the  plains  and  the   -g^j^g^  ^^ 
mountains,  and  his  easy-chair  the  saddle.     His  poetry 
showed  the  influence  of  Byron  and  of  Swinburne,  but  his  native 
genius,  at  its  best,  was  too  strong  to  be  controlled  by  any  master ; 


250  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

the  very  ecstasy  of  the  poetic  gift  is  in  many  of  his  verses.  Had 
he  been  more  thoroughly  educated,  he  might  have  done  better 
or  more  even  work ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  academic  learning 
might  have  robbed  his  productions  of  the  wilding  flavor  that  is  one 
of  their  chief  charms.  Miller  is  one  of  the  most  picturesque  and 
agreeable  figures  in  our  literature ;  he  fills  a  place  of  his  own, 
and,  with  Harte,  has  given  Cahfornia  a  Uterary  showing  of  which 
she  has  reason  to  be  proud. 

Besides  the  volume  already  mentioned,  he  has  published  "  Songs 
of  the  Sunlands,"  "Songs  of  the  Mexican  Seas,"  "Songs  of  the 
Desert,"  "Songs  of  Italy."  In  prose  he  has  written  a  romantic 
narrative,  "The  Modocs,"  "The  One  Fair  Woman,"  "The  Danites 
in  the  Sierras,"  and  a  play  founded  on  the  last-named  work,  called 
"The  Danites."  Miller,  after  his  return  from  abroad,  worked  as  a 
journalist  in  Washington  and  New  York ;  but  in  1887  he  removed 
to  Oakland  in  California,  where  he  still  lives. 

Henry  James  (1843-).  There  could  hardly  be  a  contrast 
greater  than  that  between  Henry  James  and  the  two  authors  just 
described.  The  differences  include  character,  training,  circum- 
stances and  associations,  as  well  as  literary  method  and  point  of 
view.  Yet  James  is  an  innovator  not  less  than  are  Miller  and 
Harte  ;  nay,  his  innovations  are  more  radical,  as  they  certainly  are 
more  deliberate  and  self-conscious  than  theirs.  The  history  of 
his  mental  development  is  a  history  of  gradual  growth,  determined 
A  self-  ^^  certain  directions  by  reflection  and  conscientious 

conscious  judgment.  He  has  always  held  himself  securely  in 
narrator.  hand.  His  talent,  though  amounting  at  times  to 
genius,  never  has  carried  him  off"  his  feet.  He  subjects  it  to  his 
own  pre-arranged  purposes,  without  ever  permitting  it  to  lead 
or  master  him.  From  his  earliest  beginnings  he  has  gone  for- 
ward heedfully,  step  by  step,  taking  daily  observations  of  his 
position,  like  a  careful  mariner,  trying  now  this  course  and  now 
that,  not  whimsically  nor  recklessly,  but  with  the  serious  resolve 
to  reach  the  goal  which  seemed  to  him  the  properest  and 
most  expedient.     Never  arrogant  nor  headstrong,  his   mind  is 


THE  INNOVATORS.  251 

nevertheless  intrepid  and  independent ;  he  reverences  no  master 
nor  method,  however  conventionally  or  popularly  exalted,  that 
does  not  command  his  sheer  intellectual  respect.  He  criticises 
both  himself  and  others  in  the  driest  light,  without  softness  and 
without  severity.  He  aims  to  reach  the  unbiassed  truth,  be  it 
inviting  or  otherwise,  and  to  follow  his  convictions  as  to  what  is 
right  in  literature,  without  concerning  himself  to  inquire  whether 
what  is  right  is  also  popular  and  remunerative.  James  is  a  man 
of  high  intelligence,  of  fastidious  culture,  and  of  wide  experience 
of  civilized  life ;  and  the  results  that  he  has  attained  are  worthy  of 
serious  and  respectful  attention. 

Henry  James  was  born  in  New  York,  the  oldest  of  four 
brothers.  His  father  was  a  man  of  singular  intellectual  power, 
and  gifted  with  rare  faculty  and  force  of  literary  expression ;  but 
in  point  of  style  there  is  no  resemblance  between  the 
father  and  the  son.  The  latter's  health  was  delicate,  ^g^ory. 
and  has  never  become  robust;  he  was  educated  at 
home  by  tutors,  and  never  attended  the  university.  While  still 
a  boy  he  was  taken  to  Europe,  and  remained  there  several  years. 
Returning  home  (to  Boston),  he  was  barely  twenty  when  his  first 
story  was  printed  in  "The  Atlantic  Monthly."  It  was  in  two 
numbers,  and  was  an  analysis  of  female  character,  conveyed  in  the 
form  of  extracts  from  the  diary  of  the  male  character.  It 
was  a  clever  though  not  an  exhilarating  performance.  It  was 
followed  by  a  novel,  "  Watch  and  Ward,"  in  which  analysis  and 
comment  are  much  more  conspicuous  than  action  or  dialogue, 
but  which  showed  solid  literary  qualities.  There  was  never  any 
question  in  James's  mind  as  to  what  profession  he  should  adopt. 
He  was  from  the  first  determined  upon  literature. 

Though  far  from  being  a  rich  man'  James  had  a  small  compe- 
tence, which  enabled  him  to  exist  apart  from  the  emoluments 
derived  from  his  literary  work,  which,  for  the  first  fifteen  years 
of  his  career,  amounted  practically  to  nothing.  He  wrote  for  the 
love  of  writing,  winning  the  commendation  of  a  few  intelligent 
persons,  but  quite  unknown  to  the  general  public.  He  frequently 
visited  Europe,  living  in   France,  Italy  and   London  ;    and   by 


252  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

degrees  his  visits  became  longer,  and  his  home-returns  more  brief. 
It  was  not  until  1878  that  the  appearance  of  "The  American" 
and  "Daisy  Miller"  brought  him  into  general  notice.  From  that 
time  he  has  obtained  adequate  remuneration  for  his  books,  which 
have  first  been  printed  serially  in  "The  Century,"  "The  Atlan- 
tic," "  Harper's,"  and  in  some  of  the  leading  Enghsh  magazines. 
"The  Portrait  of  a  Lady,"  "Princess  Casamassima,"  "The  Bos- 
tonians,"  and  "The  Tragedians  "  are  names  of  his  principal  novels 
published  since  1880.  In  1878  appeared  a  collection  of  able 
criticisms  of  French  writers,  under  the  title  of  "  French  Poets  and 
Novehsts."  This  volume  established  Mr.  James's  title  to  be  con- 
sidered one  of  our  keenest  and  most  agreeable  critics. 

The  longest  of  Mr.  James's  earlier  works  is  "  Roderick  Hudson," 

pubhshed  in  1875  ;  but  a  large  number  of  his  short 

tendency         stories  has  been  collected  in  volumes  under  various 

toward  titles.     It  is  in  these  that  the  course  of  his  develop- 

romance.  .  ,  1        *  r         i      •    • 

ment  is  to  be  traced.     After  obtammg  some  mastery 

of  the  technical  part  of  his  profession,  he  showed  a  leaning 
towards  romance  in  the  conception  of  his  stories.  "The  Ma- 
donna of  the  Future,"  for  example,  while  keeping  near  reality  on 
one  side,  is  on  the  other  fanciful  and  ideal.  But  the  fine  taste  of 
the  writer  presently  warned  him  that  realistic  characters  should 
not  be  forced  to  work  out  an  ideal  destiny.  It  was  necessary 
either  to  follow  Hawthorne  in  idealizing  both  persons  and  plot, 
and  so  produce  an  artistic  harmony,  or  else  the  stories  must  be 
made  realistic  throughout.  Debating  this  alternation,  he  hung 
in  the  wind  for  a  while ;  but  by  degrees  he  turned  towards  the 
latter  course,  his  choice  being,  perhaps,  somewhat  influenced  by 
the  novels  of  the  great  Russian,  Turguenef,  and  by  the  subtle 
example  of  the  contemporary  French  school. 

It  is  not,  however,  in  the  "realism"  of  his  characters,  nor  in 
the  fidelity, of  his  descriptions,  nor  in  the  conscientious  minute- 
ness of  his  analysis  of  human  motives  that  James  is  distinc- 
tively an  innovator.  These  things  are  incidental  merely,  and 
have  their  source  in  his  temperament  and  in  the  quality  of  his 
intellect.     Still  less  can  he  be  classified  as  the  inventor  of  "  the 


THE  INNOVATORS.  253 

international  novel "  ;  for  though  he  has  been  the  most  noticeable 
exponent  of  such  stories,  and  may  have  been  the  first  to  write 
such,  their  value  and  significance  to  him  has  been  solely  that  a 
better  basis  was  thereby  afforded  to  emphasize  distinctions  of 
character  and  environment.  Americans  and  foreigners  naturally 
criticise  one  another,  and  appear  to  one  another  in  their  differ- 
ences rather  than  in  their  similarities ;  and  in  so  far  relieve  the 
novelist  who  makes  his  story  out  of  them  from  the  necessity  of 
analyzing  them  in  his  own  person.  The  situation  becomes  lighter 
and  more  dramatic.  But  to  suppose  that  national  unlikenesses 
are,  in  themselves,  interesting  to  James,  is  to  misinterpret  his 
position.  His  standpoint  is  purely  the  literary  one  :  American 
and  English  are  indifferent  to  him. 

No  :  James's  real  innovation,  or  invention,  lies  in  the  character 
of  the  narrative  that  he  offers.  Studying  life,  diligently  and  atten- 
tively, he  failed  to  find  in  it  the  "stories"  —  the  dramatic  circle 
of  events,  beginning,  culminating  and  ending — which  have  hitherto 
formed  the  basis  of  the  work  of  fiction.  Life  appeared 
to  him  to  flow  on,  without  returning  upon  itself,  with-  jjuJoyation 
out  intelligible  compensations  or  revenges,  without 
poetic  justice,  without  definite  punishments  or  rewards.  So  far  as 
might  humanly  be  perceived,  the  designs  of  Providence  —  if  there 
were  a  Providence  —  were  too  far-reaching  and  too  general  to  fall 
within  the  scope  of  any  human  representation  of  life.  The  life 
which  fiction  had  been  portraying  was  a  sort  of  fairyland,  or  fools' 
paradise,  having  no  actual  or  possible  counterpart  in  the  real  world. 
Such  tales  were  fit  to  amuse  children,  but  not  to  interest  mature 
minds.  They  might  be  pretty,  or  stirring,  or  absorbing,  but  they 
did  not  present  the  truth  ;  and  fiction,  of  which  the  warp  and  woof 
were  not  truth  was  nothing. 

This  being  admitted,  the  question  remained  whether  it  were  not 
possible  to  write  fiction  that  was  both  true  and  readable  ?  —  were 
not  the  intrinsic  qualities  of  human  beings,  without  reference  to  ' 
their  dramatic  interaction,  or  to  any  movement  of  destiny  in  which 
they  might  be  arbitrarily  involved,  capable  of  being  rendered 
interesting?      If  the  noblest  study  of  mankind  were  man,  what 


254  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

need  was  there  to  force  the  Wind  current  of  events  to  assume  the 
semblance  of  intelhgent  and  sympathetic  action  ?  Let  us  rather 
study  man  and  his  hfe  as  they  are,  and  trust  to  the  faithfulness  of 
the  picture  to  attract  and  hold  the  attention  of  the  reader. 

The  argument  is  certainly  a  plausible  one.  It  does  not  deny 
the  offices  of  art,  but  it  changes  the  method  and  the  direction  in 
which  art  shall  be  apphed ;  we  find  in  James's  writings. a  sagacious 
and  effective  selection  of  types,  and  a  further  judicious  selection 
of  the  traits  by  which  they  shall  be  presented.  Whatever  is 
essential  to  a  full  understanding  is  given  ;  the  rest  is  omitted.    The 

dialogue  is  carefully  studied,  but  it  is  used  not  so 
stud?.*^*^*^       much  to  advance  the  plot  —  for  there  is  no  plot  —  as 

to  elucidate  character.  The  accessories  and  environ- 
ment are  minutely  described,  when  they  are  the  result  of  human 
modification  or  construction  j  but  natural  scenery  is  briefly  treated, 
as  having  no  vital  reference  to  man.  More  weight  is  given  to 
the  mental  states  and  impulses  that  result  in  action,  than  to  the 
actions  themselves,  it  being  the  former  only  that  mould  or  express 
character.  When  the  several  characters,  and  their  mutual  rela- 
tions, have  been  adequately  portrayed  and  accounted  for,  the 
narrative  ceases.  We  may  imagine  them  going  through  any  sub- 
sequent adventures  we  choose  :  the  novelist  has  given  us  data 
for  predicting  what  they  would  do  under  any  reasonable  circum- 
stances ;  and  he  conceives  his  office  to  be  hmited  to  that.  Any- 
body can  invent  adventures  :  but  only  the  artist  and  the  student 
can  give  verisimilitude  to  representations  of  human  character. 

Realizing  the  importance  to  his  method  of  perfect  technique, 
James  has  spared  no  pains  to  attain  such  perfection.  His  style 
has  passed  through  several  stages  :  we  are  not  prepared  to  affirm 
that  the  latest  is  the  best.     But  at  its  worst  it  is  a  fine  instrument 

of  expression,  and  at  its  best  it  has  every  beauty  but 
^^^  '  i^i^e  ygj-y  highest.  At  times  it  is  belittled  by  the  intro- 
duction of  French  words  and  phraseology ;  and  it  is  never  quite 
free  from  self-consciousness.  It  is  rich  in  delicate  refinements, 
to  be  appreciated  only  by  those  who  know  the  difficulties  of  good 
English  composition.     It  is  solid  with  the  results  of  wide  reading 


THE   INNOVATORS.  255 

of  the  best  authors :  not  that  James's  writing  contains  definite 
allusions  to  his  literary  culture  and  reminiscences,  as  Lowell's 
does ;  but  we  surmise  it  from  the  character  of  his  diction,  and 
from  what  he  forbears  to  say.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  read  him,  for 
the  sake  of  the  intellectual  allurements  offered  on  each  page ; 
but  there  is  necessarily  a  deficiency  of  continuous  interest  in  his 
volumes. 

James  has  wit,  but  not  humor ;  and  sometimes  he  is  beguiled 
into  putting  more  wit  into  the  conversations  of  his  personages 
than  probability  would  warrant;  but  that  is  a  weakness  easily 
forgiven.  He  sedulously  refrains  from  favoritism  in  his  attitude 
towards  his  characters  :  but  in  so  refraining,  he  also  gives  the 
impression  of  a  too  coldly  critical  attitude,  which  jars  upon  the 
reader.  His  studies  are  made  on  a  plan  the  opposite 
of  that  pursued  by  Shakespeare,  and  other  great  literary  attitude^ *^*^ 
artists.  He  always  approaches  his  subjects  from  with- 
out, instead  of  from  within.  Instead  of  identifying  himself  with 
them,  and  interpreting  them  by  sympathy,  he  dissects  them,  or 
explains  them  by  rule  of  thumb.  Hereby  he  loses  the  cooperation 
of  the  reader,  whose  own  imagination  is  not  stimulated,  but  who 
stands  coldly  by,  with  no  emotion  warmer  than  that  of  critical 
curiosity.  James  makes  every  effort  to  do  the  whole  work  him- 
self; but  even  when  he  succeeds,  it  is  at  the  cost  of  power  which 
might  better  have  been  utilized  in  some  other  way  —  as  if  a  wood- 
man were  to  chop  upwards,  against  the  attraction  of  gravitation, 
instead  of  adding  the  weight  of  the  planet  to  his  axe. 

The  value  of  James's  theory  of  fiction  must  be  judged  in  some 
measure  by  its  results.      He  cannot  be  called  an  unsuccessful 
writer :  he  has  won  the  admiration  of  a  cultivated  and  thoughtful 
circle,   and  is   one   of  the   most  widely  known  of  our   authors  : 
but  he  has  never  been  popular,  and  is  not  likely  to 
become  so.      He.  has   had  many  followers  and  imi-  J"<^^^<^ '^y 
tators ;   but  the  best  of  them  has  not  had  a  moiety 
of  his  merit.     James,  indeed,  has  made  no  pretence  of  founding 
a  school  of  fiction,  and   it  is  quite    possible   that  he  writes  as 
he  does  only  because  he  finds  that  particular  method  the  one 


256  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

best  adapted  to  his  own  peculiar  powers.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
the  method  appears  to  be  a  barren  one.  It  is  ingenious  and  logi- 
cal ;  but  art  is  beyond  logic.  Men  love  story,  because  they  are 
human  beings.  This  is  not  the  place  to  enter  into  a  philosophical 
argument  on  the  matter;  but  proportion  and  compensation  are 
laws  of  the  mind,  and  they  are  necessary  elements  in  every  work 
of  art.  The  story  may  exist  either  on  the  spiritual,  or  on  the 
material  level ;  it  may  be  a  story  of  character,  or  of  incident,  or 
of  the  two  harmonized  ;  but  a  story  there  must  be.  The  sculptor 
and  the  painter  recognize  the  obhgations  of  arrangement  and 
balance  of  form  and  mass,  of  light,  shade  and  color,  and  so  should 
the  poet  and  the  novelist.  Art  does  not  seek  to  reproduce  the 
universe,  or  fragmentary  parts  or  phases  of  the  universe  :  but 
epitomes  in  miniature  thereof,  organized  on  the  principles  that 
constitute  the  universal  frame  of  things.  The  day  dawns,  brightens 
to  noon,  and  darkens  to  dusk :  the  planets  circle  in  their  orbits : 
the  seasons  succeed  one  another,  from  spring  to  spring.  Why  shall 
there  not  be  stories,  with  a  beginning,  a  middle  and  an  end? 
The  measure  of  our  craving  for  art  is  the  measure  of  our  sense 
of  the  shortcomings  of  Hfe.  If  art  were  but  the  record  of  Hfe 
over  again,  there  would  be  no  reason  for  its  existence.  James 
fears  to  cut  loose  from  observed  fact.  But  fact  is  not  final ;  it 
is  the  mask  of  truth,  and  often  a  misleading  one.  The  soul  has 
kingly  certainties,  compared  with  which  the  facts  of  existence  are 
but  illusive  shadows. 

William  Dean  Howells  (183  7-).  High  imagination  is  not 
among  Mr.  Howells's  Hterary  gifts  :  in  this  respect  he  is  inferior 
to  James.  But  he  has  graceful  fancy,  playful  humor,  a  pure  and 
pleasing  style  and  minute  and  accurate  observation.  There  is  a 
poetic  vein  in  his  temperament  that  is  lacking  in  James,  and  that 
gives  a  grateful  aroma  to  his  writing.  The  artistic  sense  is  not 
strongly  developed  in  him ;  his  stories  are  deficient  in  form,  but 
are  incidentally  charming.  His  outlook  on  life  is  neither  broad 
nor  profound,  but  it  is  humane  and  gentle  :  and  as  a  workman 
he  is  conscientious,  and  spares  no  pains  to  satisfy  his  ideal  of 
perfection. 


THE  INNOVATORS. 


257 


William  Dean  Howells. 


Hovvells  was  born  in  Ohio,  and  the  first  twenty  years  of  his  Hfe 
were  years  of  poverty  and  labor.  He  was  a  printer,  a  newspaper 
reporter  and  correspondent,  an 
assistant  editor,  a  campaign  bi- 
ographer. As  occasion  served 
he  indulged  his  literary  in- 
stinct by  writing  poetry,  and 
by  picking  up  what  he  could  of 
Latin,  Greek,  Italian,  French 
and  German.  Heine  became 
one  of  his  early  poetic  models. 
At  the  age  of  twenty-two  he 
published,  in  conjunction  with 
J.  J.  Piatt,  "  Poems  of  Two 
Friends."  Two  years  later, 
Lincoln  gave  him  the  appoint- 
ment of  consul  at  Venice,  which 

he  held  for  the  full  term  of  four  years.  The  fruit  of  this  experience 
was  two  delightful  books  of  travel,  "  Venetian  Days  "  and  "  Italian 
Journeys."    On  his  return  he  was  for  a  few  months  employed  in 

editorial  work  on  "The  Nation,"  a  New  York  literary 

T  •     ,  .  11,-  1  ,  \  Biographical. 

and  political  journal :  but  this  was  presently  exchanged 

for  the  post  of  assistant  editor  of  "  The  Atlantic  Monthly  "  ;  and  in 
1 87 1,  on  the  retirement  of  James  T.  Fields,  Howells  became  editor- 
in-chief.    He  was  then  thirty-four  years  old.    He  retained  this  hon- 
orable position  for  ten  years  :    and  on  resigning  it  was  offered  a 
lucrative  engagement  on  "  Harper's  Magazine,"  which  he  still  holds. 
Natural  modesty,  and  the  want  of  a  thorough  education  in  his 
youth,  combined  to  make  Howells  distrustful  of  his  own  powers, 
and  prone  to  be  influenced  by  "  masters,"  and  to  be  guided  by 
theories  derived  from  his  study  of  them.     Theories  are  detrimental 
to  the  best  literature,  which  has  uniformly  been  the 
spontaneous  outcome  of  temperament  and  intuition.   SS^^ents 
Howells  set  himself  resolutely  and  systematically  to 
learn  his  art.      Beginning  with  light  poetry,  graceful  but  unim- 
portant, he  next  tried  his  hand,  with  marked   success,  at  prose 


258  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

descriptions  of  scenery  and  life.  His  first  work  in  this  direction  is 
all  but  equal  to  his  best.  He  has  the  painter's  love  of  beauty  and 
color,  and  the  poet's  felicity  in  reproducing  them  in  words.  His 
humorous  perception,  never  mordant  nor  ill-natured,  sweetens  and 
brightens  every  page.  A  tender  and  luminous  atmosphere  —  one 
of  the  rarest  and  most  valuable  literary  quahties  —  softens  and 
elevates  his  pictures,  while  his  study  of  detail  is  so  accurate 
and  yet  so  effortless  that  the  reader  discovers  a  new  value  in 
eyesight.  His  comments  upon  what  he  sees  are  just  and  acute  ; 
and  a  gentle,  unobtrusive  personal  tone  permeates  the  composition, 
removing  all  stiffness  and  artificiality,  and  establishing  the  most 
agreeable  relations  of  companionship.  For  first  books,  "Venetian 
Days  "  and  "  Italian  Journeys  "  are  remarkable  achievements. 

The  publication  in  1871  of  "  Suburban  Sketches  "  was  a  further 
success  on  the  same  fines.  Howells  was  then  fiving  in  Cambridge, 
near  Boston,  and  he  passes  in  review  the  quiet  features  of  his 
existence  with  a  lightness  and  felicity  of  handling,  and  a  firmness 
and  purity  of  style,  that  are  scarcely  susceptible  of  improvement. 
It  may  be  questioned,  indeed,  whether  Howells  has  ever  done 
anything  else  so  good  as  this.  But  he  was  ambitious  of  higher 
achievements,  and  in  "Their  Wedding  Journey"  he  for  the  first 
time  ventured  on  a  slender  vein  of  fiction.  It  is  barely  fiction  :  it 
balances  on. the  verge  of  fact.  The  bulk  of  the  little  volume  is 
taken  up  with  a  record  of  travel  to  Niagara  :  but  various  char- 
acters are  incidentally  introduced,  names  are  given  to  them,  and 
bits  of  dialogue  are  written  out.  There  is  no  story ;  and  there  is 
a  certain  timidity  in  the  touch,  as  if  the  author  felt  he  was  making 
a  perilous  and  rather  audacious  experiment.  The  reader,  too,  is 
incHned  to  think  that  it  might  have  been  as  well  to  leave  the 
fiction  out.  But  Howells  had  crossed  his  httle  Rubicon,  and  must 
go  on.  "A  Chance  Acquaintance,"  while  sufficiently  faithful  to 
real  scenes  to  be  used  as  a  guide-book,  belongs  more  distinctly 
to  fiction ;  the  characters  have  more  to  say  and  to  do,  and  the 
story  —  to  call  it  that  —  turns  on  a  rather  vulgar  piece  of  snob- 
bishness perpetrated  by  an  aristocratic  young  gentleman  from 
Boston.     The  book  leaves  an  unpleasant  impression,  and  a  doubt 


THE  INNOVATORS.  259 

as  to  whether  the  author  had  justly  estimated  the  character  of  his 
hero. 

Meanwhile,    Howells   had   come   under   the   influence   of  the 
Russian   novelist,   Turguenef,   and  his  next  book,  "A  Foregone 
Conclusion,"  shows  the  effect  of  his  study.      It  treats  of  the  love 
of  an  Italian  priest  for  an  American  girl,  and  of  the 
tragic  situation  consequent  upon  such  a  passion.    The  y.^^^^^^ 
theme  is  here  dramatic,  and  the  treatment  is  a  great 
advance  upon  the  combination  of  guide-book  and  fiction  that  had 
preceded  it.     As  a  story  of  character  and  passion,  Mr.  Howells 
has  never  surpassed  this  work.      He  has,  since  then,  gained  in 
solidity  of  style  and  technical  elaboration  ;  but  he  has  never  come 
so  near  stirring  the  deeper  sympathies  of  his  readers.     His  later 
novels  are,  comparatively,  artificial  and  conventional,  and  there 
is  in  them  a  fatal  lack  of  distinction ;  they  are  not  so  much  demo- 
cratic as  plebeian.     The  author  retains  his  refinement,  but  his 
characters  and  incidents  become  vulgar  and  mean. 

This  appears  to  be  the  result  not  so  much  of  natural  disposition 
as  of  conformity  to  theory.  The  theory  in  question  has  been 
provisionally  entitled  the  theory  of  realism,  though  this  name  is 
in  some  respects  misleading.  The  realist,  in  Howells's  sense, 
should  present  life  not  as  he  thinks  it  ought  to  be, 
but  as  he  thinks  it  is ;  not  as  he  imagines  it,  but  ^i^^^^^^ 
as  he  sees  it.  The  exceptional  in  character  and 
circumstance  should  be  avoided  :  fiction  should  deal  only  with 
the  average  of  men  and  events.  Heroes,  heroines  and  heroism 
are  banished  from  the  stage,  and  the  loftier  excursions  of  the 
soul  are  ignored,  while  its  darker  impulses  are  kept  out  of 
sight.  The  writer  may  observe  as  closely  as  his  faculties  allow, 
but  he  must  be  chary  of  reflections ;  he  is  to  submit  data, 
but  not  to  draw  inferences.  Inasmuch  as  the  lives  of  the  real 
persons  of  our  acquaintance  are  seldom  symmetrically  rounded, 
and  justice  is  often  imperfect,  the  mimic  existence  presented  by 
the  novelist  must  be  fragmentary  and  inconsequent. 

Howells  does  his  best  to  illustrate  his  own  rules.     He  shows  us 
average  men  and  women  in  commonplace  circumstances.     Since 


260  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

all  that  can  be  scientifically  known  of  persons  is  indicated  by 
their  words  and  acts,  Howells  shuns  conjecture,  or  leaves  it  to 
the  reader.  But  there  is  a  fallacy  here.  Real  conversation  is 
constantly  alien  from  real  thought :  and  real  acts  are  often  pre- 
ceded by  doubts  and  abortive  impulses  that  are  truer  keys  to 
character  than  the  acts  themselves.  In  other  words,  appearances 
are  deceptive ;  and  the  novelist  who  records  appearances  only,  is 
misleading  in  direct  proportion  to  his  success.  Moreover,  the 
conventional  man  is  such  by  reason  of  his  avoidance  of  passion 
and  eccentricity,  which  are  the  surest  tests  of  character.  Con- 
sequently, the  more  nearly  man  approaches  the  conventional,  the 
more  artificial  is  he,  and  the  less  genuine.  Howells's  cultivation 
of  the  conventional,  therefore,  leads  him  away  from  true  realism, 
instead  of  towards  it. 

With  these  restrictions,  Howells  is  competent  to  the  tasks  he 
sets  himself.  His  portrayals  are  sympathetic,  humorous  and  faith- 
ful. But  one  feels  that  if  he  had  followed  his  natural  impulses  in 
literature,  instead  of  allowing  himself  to  be  swayed  and  perplexed 
by  the  example  of  writers  in  every  sense  so  foreign  to  him  as  Tur- 
guenef,  Tolstoi,  Dostoiefsky  and  others,  whose  imperfections  he 
mistakes  for  principles,  and  whose  merits  he  cannot  reproduce, 
he  would  have  gained  a  reputation  far  higher  and  sounder  than 

can  be  hoped  for  now.  He  is  especially  weak  and 
^dg-men?^    falhble  in  literary  judgment,  but,  as  is  often  the  case, 

where  he  is  weakest  he  believes  himself  to  be  most 
strong.  It  is  his  misfortune  to  have  been  placed  in  a  position 
where,  as  literary  censor,  his  frailties  run  riot,  and  he  is  encouraged 
to  confirm  himself  in  errors  which  might  otherwise  be  unnoticed 
or  condoned. 

Since  the  publication  of  "A  Foregone  Conclusion,"  his  principal 
works  have  been  "The  Lady  of  the  Aroostook,"  "The  Undis- 
covered Country,"  treating  of  spirituaHsm,  the  weakest  of  his  pro- 
ductions ;  "A  Modern  Instance,"  "The  Rise  of  Silas  Lapham," 
and  "  Indian  Summer,"  a  charming  little  story,  the  scene  of  which 
is  laid  in  Italy.  Besides  these  novels,  he  has  written  a  number 
of  light  and  witty  parlor  comedies  —  "  The  Register,"  "  The  Eleva- 


THE  INNOVATORS. 


261 


tor,"  "The  Mousetrap,"  et  cetera;  and  a  couple  of  volumes  of 
travel  and  study,  "  Tuscan  Cities  "  and  "  Modern  Italian  Poets." 
One  feels  inclined  to  say  that  Hovvells's  literary  faults  are  acquired, 
while  his  virtues  are  innate  :  and,  would  he  but  bestow  his  exqui- 
site workmanship  upon  some  fitting  theme,  his  place  in  American 
literature  would  be  not  far  from  the  top. 

Walt  Whitman  (1849-7;  Externally,  if  not  in  the  deeper 
sense,  Whitman  belongs  among  the  innovators ;  but  it  is  a  ques- 
tion whether,  when  the  shock  of  his  grotesque  style  and  still  more 
grotesque    "claims"    is    over,    he  _ 

may  not  turn  out  to  be  a  compara- 
tively commonplace  and  imitative 
writer.  Much  of  his  apparent 
originality  is  certainly  due  to  his 
remarkable  ignorance ;  he  knows 
almost  nothing  of  the  thought  and 
history  of  mankind;  and  the  coarse, 
primitive  quality  of  his  intellect 
renders  him  incapable  of  receiving 
cultivation.  His  egotism  is  at  least 
commensurate  with  his  ignorance  ; 
and  the  world,  starded  by  the  mag- 
nitude of  his  pretensions,  and  per- 
plexed by  the  turgid  and  uncouth 
truculence  of  his  diction,  accepted  him,  for  a  time  —  and  pend- 
ing further  inquiry  —  at  his  own  valuation.  Not  a  few  poets  and 
scholars,  especially  in  England,  assumed  his  peculiarities  to  be 
due,  not  to  dearth  of  education,  but  to  conscious  and  voluntary 
conviction  :  they  credited  him  with  first  knowing  as  much  about 
literature  and  life  as  they  did,  and  then  heroically  abjuring  it  all 
in  obedience  to  a  new  light  and  inspiration.  It  is  so  unusual  to . 
find  a  man  of  Whitman's  rough  texture  practising  literature,  that 
one's  first  impulse  is  to  interpret  his  clumsiness  as  a  new  form  of 
genius. 

The  matter  is,  however,  complicated  by  the  fact  that  Whitman 


Walt  Whitman. 


262  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

really  does  possess  certain  strong  and  hearty  qualities,  and  a  fund 
of  confidence  in  himself  which  in  some  degree  answers  for  genius, 
since  it  prompts  him  to  unrestrained  and  exhaustive  expression. 
When  a  man  acquires  the  habit  of  uttering  everything  that  comes 
into  his  head,  his  head  must  indeed  be  empty  if  it  does  not  occa- 
sionally furnish  him  with  a  good  thing.  Whitman's  nature,  physi- 
cal and  gross  though  it  is,  is  a  harmonious  one ;  he  has  warm 
feelings  and  large  sympathies ;  and  he  is  at  times  moved  by  a 
lyrical  impulse  that  indicates  the  germs  of  poetic  susceptibility. 
But  his  claim  to  credit  for  inventing  a  new  poetic  style,  and 
establishing  original  principles  in  art,  will  not  bear  serious  exam- 
ination. Previous  to  the  publication  of  "  Leaves  of  Grass "  in 
1855,  Whitman  had  attempted  to  write  according  to  the  ordinary 
rules,  and  had  failed  to  attract  notice,  the  reason  being  that__he 
was  incompetent,  owing  to  deficiency  of  mental  equip- 
ment, to  yield  intelHgent  obedience  to  the  Taws^T 
composition,  prose  or  metrical.  Another  man  would  thereupon 
have  turned  his  attention  to  something  else  :  but  Whitman's  rude 
vitality  and  self-esteem  would  not  permit  him  to  accept  defeat ; 
so,  since  he  could  not  use  the  instruments  that  had  sufficed  for 
Homer,  Shakespeare  and  Tennyson,  he  bethought  himself  to 
decry  these  as  effete  and  inadequate,  and  to  bray  forth  his  mes- 
sage upon  a  fog-horn.  But  even  the  fog-horn  was  not  original ; 
it  was  the  best  imitation  that  Whitman  could  devise  of  that  sub- 
lime organ  that  utters  its  majestic  music  in  the  Lamentations 
of  Jeremiah  and  the  prophecies  and  rhapsodies  of  Isaiah.  So 
destitute  was  Whitman  of  the  musical  ear  that  he  could  not  dis- 
tinguish between  the  lofty  harmonies  of  the  Old  Testament,  and 
that  mixture  of  the  double-shuffle  and  the  limp,  the  stride  and 
the  break-down,  that  he  offers  to  us  as  the  poetry  of  the  future. 

WiUiam  Blake,  the  English  artist,  mystic  and  poet  of 
His  revolt.  ,      1     ? 

the  last  century,  had  also  gone  to  the  Scriptures  for 

his  inspiration ;    but   he   brought   back    gold  and  jewels,   where 

Whitman  could  find  only  slag  and  tinsel.     In  proclaiming  a  revolt 

against  the  errors  and  prejudices  of  the  past,  he  succeeded  only 

in  revolting  against  common  sense,  good  taste  and  literary  sanity. 


THE  INNOVATORS.  263 

Instead  of  resonance,  eloquence  and  the  irregular  but  sublime 
rhythm  of  nature  —  of  the  cataract,  the  sea,  the  wind  in  the 
boughs  of  the  primeval  forest  —  he  gives  us  the  slang  of  the  street, 
the  patois  and  pigeon-English  of  the  frontier  and  the  bald  vul- 
garity of  the  newspaper  penny-a-liner.  In  short,  there  is  not  one 
word  to  be  said  in  defence  of  the  medium  through  which  Whitman 
declares  himself. 

But  good  wares  are  sometimes  found  in  vile  wrappings ;  let  us 
see  what  manner  of  wares  Whitman  brings.  He  declares  himself 
to  be  the  spokesman  and  representative  of  the  unrestricted  Democ- 
racy :  he  is  the  brother  of  all  men,  the  child  of  Nature,  and  the 
epitome  of  her  qualities.  He  is  everything,  good  and  bad  :  for 
all  men  are  one,  nature  is  man  inchoate  ;  right  and  wrong,  morality 
and  immorality,  are  but  points  of  view,  and  modification  of  circum- 
stances. Is  there  anything  original  in  this  attitude  ?  Surely  not. 
It  is  at  least  as  old  as  Brahminism  and  Buddhism  :  but  one  need 
go  no  further  than  to  Emerson  to  find  it  all  tersely  and  exquisitely 
stated  in  his  poems,  "  Mithridates,"  "  Guy  "  and  "  Brahma."  The 
only  novel  feature  in  Whitman's  case  is,  that  he  does  not  announce 
his  philosophy  abstractly,  but  thrusts  himself  forward  by  name, 
—  "  I  —  Walt  Whitman  "  ;  "I  celebrate  myself,  and  sing  myself." 
In  other  words,  he  abandons  all  personal  dignity  and  reserve, 
and  sprawls  incontinently  before  us  in  his  own  proper  person. 
It  is  no  wonder  that  an  expedient  so  desperate  should  attract 
attention  :  so  do  the  gambols  of  a  bull  in  a  china-shop.  In  old 
times,  a  sort  of  sanctity  and  reverence  was  associated  with  idiots, 
insane  persons  and  the  victims  of  hysteria  and  epilepsy.  The 
nature  of  their  affliction  was  not  understood,  and  it  was  supposed 
that  behavior  so  strange  and  abnormal  as  theirs  must  betoken  some 
divine  or  superhuman  agency.  Analogous  to  this  is  the 
attitude  of  many  of  Whitman's  admirers  and  disciples  ^„^g.*^"  ^ 
to-day.  They  cannot  persuade  themselves  that  a  man 
who  acts  so  grotesquely  should  be  anything  less  than  inspired.  If 
he  cut  his  hair,  dressed  respectably,  spoke  in  hexameters  and  in 
good  grammar,  they  would  not  bestow  a  second  thought  upon 
him,  though  the  *'  message  "  that  he  dehvered  were  precisely  the 


264  AMERICAN  LITERA  TURE. 

same  that  it  is  now.  It  is  not  the  minds  of  his  audience  that 
Whitman  affects,  but  their  eyes,  ears  and  olfactories.  It  is  the 
"barbaric  yawp,"  not  the  philosophy  of  human  brotherhood,  that 
enchants  them.  They  like  him  for  his  unlikeness  to  themselves 
—  for  the  contrast  of  his  frank  grossness  with  their  fastidiousness. 
On  the  other  hand,  people  of  Whitman's  own  social  station  and 
quality  neither  know  nor  care  anything  about  him.  He  is  the 
least  popular,  in  the  broad  sense,  of  American  writers.  He  is 
the  fad  —  the  pet  —  of  the  aristocracy  of  culture  ;  and  when  they 
have  tired  of  him,  he  will  be  in  danger  of  slipping  out  of  sight 
altogether. 

We  have  maintained  that  Whitman's  method  is  false,  and  that 
his  philosophy  comes  some  thousands  of  years  too  late  to  be  called 
original  :  it  remains  to  say  that,  be  his  philosophy  new  or  old,  his 
own  writings  (poems,  chants,  yawps,  or  whatever  they  be  termed) 
are  inconsistent  with  it.  He  is  not  a  democrat :  he  is  not  broad  : 
he   is  not   free    from    prejudice.      On    the  contrary, 

Not  a  repre-    \\]^q  most  iejnorant   men,   he  is  narrow,  bigoted  and 
sentative  of  ...  ...  .  '       & 

democracy,  provincial.  Like  politicians  in  a  canvass,  his  prin- 
ciples profess  one  thing,  while  his  speeches  express 
another.  Whitman  intimates  that  his  egotism  is  only  in  appear- 
ance :  that  in  reality  he  speaks  impersonally  :  "what  I  assume,  you 
shall  assume,  for  every  atom  belonging  to  me  as  good  belongs  to 
you."  But,  in  truth,  his  egotism  is  the  most  real  thing  about  him  ; 
he  portrays  his  own  character  and  qualities,  and  no  one  else's : 
he  celebrates  not  mankind,  but  Walt  Whitman.  Again,  he  pro- 
claims democracy  and  universality ;  but  he  really  cares  for  and 
sympathizes  with  only  a  very  limited  class  of  persons,  and  that, 
one  of  the  least  representative  of  classes.  He  purports  to  be 
un-self-conscious  and  natural ;  but  his  self-consciousness  and  arti- 
ficiality are  painfully  apparent  in  almost  every  line.  He  announces 
his  independence  of  all  forms  ;  yet  he  arbitrarily  adheres  to  a  form 
that  is  more  laborious  and  cramping  than  the  most  elaborate  verse. 
He  boasts  that,  to  him,  nothing  is  unclean;  yet  he  extols  many 
things  solely  because  of  their  uncleanness.  The  final  effort  of  his 
.writings  is  not  to  strengthen  our  belief  in  the  majestic  unity  of 


THE   INNOVATORS.  265 

Creation,  but  to  burden  us  with  the  barren  tedium  of  a  straitened, 
vulgar  and  self-conceited  individuality. 

Nevertheless,  as  we  have  intimated,  Whitman's  product  is  not 
wholly  without  tolerable  features.  He  is  a  human  being  ;  he  is  an 
awkward,  friendly,  naive  creature  ;  his  craving  for  approbation  is 
pathetic ;  he  possesses  a  slow,  primitive  sort  of  imagination ;  and, 
once  in  a  while,  when  his  feelings  are  strongly  affected  (as  on  the 
occasion  of  the  assassination  of  Lincoln)  the  very  clumsiness  and 
inertia  of  his  mind  operates  to  give  a  lyrical  quality 
to  his  utterance.  This  poem,  —  "  O  Captain  !  My  poem  in 
Captain  !  "  is  a  genuine  and  moving  poem  :  but  it  conventional 
runs  counter  to  every  principle  that  Whitman  has 
laid  down  as  binding  upon  the  poet.  The  lines  are  rhymed  and 
regular,  the  theme  is  purely  personal,  the  language  is  direct  and 
simple  and  even  the  grammar  is  comparatively  orthodox.  Its  fig- 
ures are  imaginative,  and  its  sentiment  fervent,  sincere  and  single. 
It  gains  much  by  contrast  with  the  rest  of  Whitman's  writings ; 
but  it  shows  how  much  that  would  be  worthy  of  attention  and 
commendation  he  might  have  done,  could  he  but  have  forgotten 
himself  and  his  philosophy,  and  expressed  in  unaffected  phraseology 
the  kindly  and  spontaneous  impulses  of  his  heart  and  nature.  It 
is  only  the  emotional  side  of  Whitman  that  could  ever  possess  any 
value  for  literature  :  his  thoughts  are  worthless.  Searching  through 
the  repulsive  wilderness  of  his  pages,  we  not  seldom  stumble  upon 
something  that  might  have  been  worth  preserving,  had  it  not  been 
distorted  and  degraded  by  perverse  treatment.  So  we  see  litde 
children  in  the  slums  of  a  city,  in  whose  faces  we  discern  germs  of 
somewhat  divine,  though  the  squalid  and  ignorant  conditions  of 
their  lives  bar  them  out  from  all  hope  of  use  and  beauty. 

The  ''  Leaves  of  Grass,"  with  its  various  additions  and  emenda- 
tions, represents  Whitman's  life-work.  His  war-record  as  a  hos- 
pital nurse  is  embodied  in  "  Drum-Taps  " ;  two  prose  works  are 
entitled  "  Specimen  Days  and  Collect  "  and  "  November  Boughs." 
The  details  of  his  life  are  unimportant.  He  was  born  in  West 
Hills,  Long  Island,  attended  school  in  Brooklyn,  worked  at  print- 
ing and  at  carpentering,   and   served  as  a  volunteer  army-nurse 


266  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

during  the  war.  He  now  lives  at  Camden,  New  Jersey,  supported 
by  the  sale  of  his  books,  and  by  the  contributions  of  his  friends. 

Frank  Richard  Stockton  (1834-).  The  literary  domain  of 
Stockton  is  almost  as  small  as  it  is  agreeable  :  but  he  is  sole  mon- 
arch of  it.  No  one  has  even  attempted  to  rival  him  on  his  own 
ground.  He  is  a  humorist,  and  he  is  thoroughly  American ;  but 
to  describe  him  as  an  "  American  humorist "  would  be  misleading. 
The  quality  of  his  fun  is  of  his  own  individual  inven- 
humoriTt^^^  tion.  It  is  the  natural  product  of  his  personal  tem- 
perament. It  is  never  boisterous,  nor  irreverent,  nor 
does  it  deal  in  exaggerations.  It  depends  for  much  of  its  effect 
upon  fine  literary  taste  and  handling.  It  quietly  conducts  the 
reader  into  a  new  world,  and  calmly  introduces  him  to  things 
which  would  be  marvels  anywhere  else,  but  which  are  there  com- 
monplaces of  every-day  occurrence. 

Stockton  was  born  in  Philadelphia.  He  was  educated  in  the 
high  school,  and  supplemented  the  instruction  he  got  there  with 
the  reading  of  novels  and  story-books,  and  by  writing  poems  and 
stories  of  his  own.  At  his  father's  request,  he  learned  the  trade 
of  wood-engraving ;  but  the  chief  practical  use  to  which  he  put 
his  accomplishment  was  to  illustrate  the  tales  "and  verses  that  he 
contributed  to  periodicals.  His  brother  was  editor  of  a  news- 
paper, and  Frank  acted  for  a  while  as  special  correspondent,  and 
afterwards  as  associate  editor.  Later,  he  was  connected  with 
"  Hearth  and  Home,"  and  with  "  Scribner's  Monthly  "  (the  fore- 
runner of  "The  Century"),  to  which  he  contributed 
History. 

the  first  serial  that  brought  him  into  notice,  —  "  Rudder 

Grange."  During  several  years  he  was  assistant-editor  of  "  St. 
Nicholas."  At  length  a  short  tale  appeared  over  his  signature, 
with  the  title  of  "The  Lady?  or  the  Tiger?"  It  had  a  wide 
and  instantaneous  success,  and  has  ever  since  been  connected 
with  Stockton's  name,  as  is  "The  Heathen  Chinee"  with  Bret 
Harte's.  Since  then,  Stockton  has  written  two  or  three  long 
novels,  and  many  short  stories ;  but  it  is  upon  the  short  stories  of 
"The  Lady?  or  the  Tiger?"  type  that  his  reputation  rests. 


THE  INNOVATORS.  267 

One  of  the  most  characteristic  of  these  short  tales  is  called 
"  Negative  Gravity."     We  are  introduced  to  an  elderly  gentleman 
and  his  wife  taking  a  walk  of  fifteen  miles,  out  and  back,  over 
rough  ground,  encumbered  with  a  knapsack  and  a  lunch- basket. 
This  athletic  feat  they  accomplish  in   the  course  of  a  few  hours 
without  the  slightest  effort.     The  reason  is  that  the  gentleman  has 
invented  a  little  machine,  easily  contained  in  his  knap- 
sack, which  counteracts  the  attraction  of  gravitation  ;    l^avffy^^* 
and  by  screwing  it  up  the  weight  of  the  person  who 
carries  it  can  be  diminished  to  any  required  figure,  or  made  less 
than  nothing  at  all.     We   are  not  told  how  the  machine  is  con- 
structed :  its  construction  is  an  accomplished  fact  before  the  story 
begins,  and  all  we  are  required  to  do  is  to  assist  at  the  surprising, 
but  perfectly  logical  and  inevitable  results  that  its  use  and  misuse 
bring  about. 

'*  The  Adscititious    Experiences    of   Mr.    Amos    Kilbright "    is 
another   captivatingly   bewildering   narrative.      Mr.    Kilbright,    it 
appears,  was  drowned  about  a  century  ago ;  but  his  great-grand- 
son happened  the  other  day  to  attend  a  spiritualistic  materiahzing 
seance,  and  requested  to  see  the  spirit   of  his  legendary  great- 
grandfather.     The  spirit  of  Amos  appeared  accord- 
ingly, and  was  materialized  ;  but  by  an  oversight  he   ^^^^^^g  "™ 
was  allowed  to  remain  so  long  in  that  condition,  that 
when  the  managers  of  the  seance  tried  to  dematerialize  him,  they 
found  it  impossible  to  do  so.    The  perils,  perplexities  and  entangle- 
ments of  Mr.  Kilbright's  second  earthly  career  are  then  seriously 
and  sympathetically  expounded  and  analyzed  by  the  author,  and 
are  brought  to  a  perfectly  satisfactory  issue. 

It  is  said  that  only  an  exceptionally  sane  mind  can  comprehend 
the  vagaries  of  insanity.  If  that  be  the  case,  Stockton  must  be 
one  of  the  sanest  of  American  writers  ;  to  read  him  is  to  see  dis- 
solving around  you  the  foundations  and  moorings  of  the  actual 
world,  and  to  find  yourself  in  a  world  of  fantasy,  where  impossi- 
bilities present  themselves  with  unimpeachable  correctness  as 
admitted  and  inevitable  facts.  There  is  a  cool,  rational  method 
perceptible  all  through  the  crazy  evolutions  of  the  author's  prog- 


268  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

ress  :  and  there  are  touches  of  poetic  beauty,  gleams  of  human 
mirth,  breaths  of  true  sentiment.  The  argument  moves  on  blame- 
lessly from  point  to  point,  and  we  remember  only  by  an  effort  that, 
like  a  fly  on  the  ceiling,  it  is  upside  down,  in  defiance 
^erversity  ^^  natural  law.  Real  genius  is  shown  in  the  construc- 
tion of  these  little  stories ;  in  the  reticence,  the  sim- 
plicity and  the  neatness  of  the  workmanship.  Stockton  has  no 
axe  to  grind,  and  no  moral  to  enforce ;  his  object  is  simply  the 
reader's  pleasure,  and  he  generally  brings  it  about. 

Among  other  short  stories  of  his  inditing  are  "  The  Remarkable 
Wreck  of  the  Thomas  Hyke,"  "The  Transferred  Ghost,"  "A 
Borrowed  Month,"  "The  Bee-Man  of  Orn."  He  has  written 
some  excellent  novelettes,  such  as  "The  Casting  Away  of  Mrs. 
Leeks  and  Mrs.  Aleshine,"  and  "  The  Great  War  Syndicate."  His 
long  novels  are  serious  pieces  of  work,  and  have  little  to  distinguish 
them  from  the  average  contemporary  novel  of  the  better  class. 
"The  Late  Mrs.  Null,"  and  "The  Hundredth  Man,"  are  the 
titles  of  the  best  two  of  them.  But  there  is  little  or  nothing  in 
them  that  would  entitle  the  author  to  a  place  among  the  inno- 
vators. 


WRITERS   OF  TO-DAY.  269 


XL 

WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY. 

We  have  now  to  consider  the  men  and  women  whose  writings 
constitute  the  substance  of  our  current  Uterature. 

Most  of  these  writers  are  still  in  the  midst  of  their  productive- 
ness ;  and  it  would  be  unjust  to  pass  any  final  verdict  upon  their 
work.  Any  one  of  them  may  yet  write  a  book,  a  story  or  a  poem 
which  would  modify  the  critic's  judgment.  The  course  that  seems 
most  expedient,  therefore,  is  to  classify  them,  so  far  as  possible, 
according  to  the  nature  of  their  product,  and  to  treat  of  each  as 
briefly  as  may  be  consistent  with  explicitness.  The  great  majority 
must,  of  course,  be  passed  without  mention  :  a  mere  list  of  con- 
temporary American  authors  would  fill  a  volume.  Nor  is  it  desira- 
ble that  the  student  should  attempt  to  acquaint  himself  with  the 
mass  of  books  now  publishing.  Time,  and  the  winnowing  of  criti- 
cism, will  in  due  season  cause  the  valuable  residue  to  emerge, 
and  it  can  then  receive  the  attention  that  it  merits.  Meanwhile, 
there  is  more  than  enough  material  already  tested  and  approved 
to  occupy  the  most  insatiable  mind. 

The  extent  to  which  authorship  is  now  followed  as  a  profession 
is  remarkable,  especially  in  view  of  the  obstacles  with  which,  by 
general  admission,  it  has  to  contend.     The  absence  until  this  year 
(1891)   of  an  international  copyright  law,  subjected  the  native 
writer  to  the  competition  of  foreign  authors,  whose  books,  being 
appropriated  by  American  publishers  without  compen- 
sation, were  published  at  prices  almost  nominal,  thereby   ^}^  situa- 
shutting  the  higher-priced  American  books  out  of  their  America, 
own  market.     But  for  one  circumstance,  this  foreign 
competition  must  have  resulted  in  the  total  extinction  of  American 
authorship  —  except  in  the  case  of  those  writers  whose  independent 


270  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

means  should  enable  them  to  publish  their  works  at  their  own 
expense,  and  without  hope  of  pecuniary  returns. 

The  circumstance  referred  to  is  the  extraordinary  multiplication 
of  periodicals.  Daily,  weekly  and  bi-weekly  papers,  and  monthly 
magazines  and  reviews,  have  increased  to  such  an  extent  within 
the  last  fifteen  or  twenty  years,  that  probably  every  American  able 
to  read  is  acquainted  with  at  least  one  of  them.  It  is  in  these 
periodicals  that  the  productions  of  our  writers  make  their  first 
appearance.  They  are  paid  for  at  various  rates  —  dependent 
upon  the  circulation  and  price  of  the  periodical,  and  the  reputa- 
tion of  the  author  —  and  it  is  upon  these  payments,  and  not  upon 
the  royalties  from  the  sale  of  their  books  in  book-form,  that  the 
authors  depend  for  their  living.  A  first-class  novelist,  for  exam- 
ple, will  receive  from  three  to  ten  thousand  dollars  for  the  serial 
use  of  a  novel  in  such  a  magazine  as  "  The  Century  "  or  "  Harper's," 
or  in  one  or  other  of  the  great  "  newspaper  syndicates  "  that  have 
lately  been  established.  This  pays  him  for  his  work  :  the  two  or 
three  hundred  dollars  that  he  may  derive  from  royalties,  at  ten  or 
fifteen  per  cent,  on  the  book  as  afterward  published  at  a  dollar 
or  more  a  copy,  is  regarded  as  extra  money,  and  does  not  enter 
into  his  calculations.  Inferior  writers  receive,  of  course,  but  a 
tithe  of  the  sums  above  named  ;  but  by  rapid  production,  and  by 
publication  in  two  or  more  periodicals  at  the  same  time  (perhaps 
under  several  pseudonyms)  they  contrive  to  exist.  Meanwhile, 
the  size  of  the  reading  public,  and  the  habit  of  reading,  constantly 
increase. 

Even  these  facts,  however,  fail  to  entirely  account  for  the  vast 
amount  of  books  and  articles  that  daily  issue  from  the  press.  A 
large  proportion  of  these  must  be  entirely  unremunerative ;  and 
many  others  are  brought  forth  at  the  author's  expense.  A  mania 
for  writing  at  all  hazards  seems  to  have  taken  possession  of  the 
community ;  and  when  we  consider  that,  according  to  trustworthy 
statistics,  ten  books  are  written  for  every  one  that  is  printed,  it 
would  seem  as  if  comparatively  few  of  our  countrymen  could  be 
unconnected  with  authorship  in  some  form. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  increase  in  the  number  of  really  valuable 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY.  •      271 

books  is  probably  very  small :  it  would  be  a  conservative  estimate 
to  say  that  one  out  of  ten  thousand  will  be  heard  of  ten  years 
hence,  or  that  one  in  a  million  will  survive  a  century.  We  may 
expect,  therefore,  that  the  fashion  of  universal  authorship  will 
presently  cease.  That  for  which  there  is  no  demand  will  not  long 
continue  to  be  supplied.  The  few  really  gifted  authors  will  remain  ; 
and  then  we  may  hope  to  witness  the  rise  of  a  literature  which 
shall  be  commensurate  in  quality  with  the  greatness  of  the  land 
that  gives  it  birth. 

1.   The  Imaginative  Group. 

The  value  of  a  literature  is  tested  by  the  quahty  of  its  imagina- 
tive works.  All  works  other  than  those  of  the  imagination  are  of 
transitory  interest,  and,  save  as  records,  unimportant  and  unin- 
structive  to  any  except  the  special  and  temporary  demand  that 
calls  them  forth.  Imagination,  however,  enters  as  an 
element  into  many  writings  that  are  not  technically  JJeratur?  * 
or  exclusively  imaginative  :  as,  for  example.  Bacon's 
Essays  and  Gibbon's  Histories.  Again,  many  books  may  be  classed 
under  the  general  title  of  imaginative,  that  have  little  or  no  imag- 
ination in  them,  —  as  Tupper's  "  Proverbial  Philosophy  "  and  the 
novels  of  the  Warner  sisters.  The  present  heading  is  designed 
to  cover  those  works  in  American  hterature  which  are  imaginative 
par  excellence^  both  in  name  and  quality,  —  that  are,  in  other 
words  nothing  if  not  imaginative. 

Richard  Henry  Stoddard  (1825-).  No  living  American 
man  of  letters  stands  higher  than  Mr.  Stoddard,  or  has  devoted 
himself  to  letters  more  assiduously  than  he.  The  descendant  of 
a  New  England  sea-faring  race,  he  was  born  in  Massachusetts,  in 
the  house  where  his  forefathers  had  lived.  At  ten  years  of  age  he 
came  to  New  York,  where  he  has  resided  ever  since.  He  was 
educated  at  the  public  school,  and  has  always  been  a  poor  man. 
In  his  youth,  he  worked  in  an  iron-foundry.  In  1853  he  received 
an  appointment  in  the  New  York  Custom  House,  which  he  held 


272  A MERICAN  LI  TERA  T URE. 

till  1870,  when  he  accepted  a  position  in  the  Dock  Department 
under  McClellan.  Later,  he  filled  the  post  of  librarian  in  the 
public  library.  He  is  now,  and  has  been  for  several  years,  literary 
reviewer  for  "The  Mail  and  Express,"  a  New  York  evening  news- 
paper. 

From  his  boyhood  he  has  been  a  poet.  In  1880  a  collected 
edition  of  his  poems  was  published  by  the  Scribners,  in  a  hand- 
some volume  of  five  hundred  pages.  Since  then  he  has  written 
other  poems,  many  of  them  fully  equal  to  his  earlier  ones.  He 
recently  published  a  small  volume  of  verse  under  the  title  of  "  The 
Lion's  Cub."  His  prose  writings  include  literary  criticism  and 
biographies. 

The  characteristic  of  his  poetry  is  high  and  lovely  imagination. 
It  is  simple  and  severe  m  form,  spontaneous  in  feeling :  the 
poet  never  seeks  for  recondite  subjects,  but  treats  what  he  finds 
with  such  tenderness  and  depth  of  vision  that  common  and  fa- 
miliar things  are  found  to  be  beautiful  and  wonderful.  The  un- 
adorned language  that  seems  so  artless  is  the  result 
Qualities  of  ^^  resolute  and  sleepless  self-discipline,  suppressing 
and  pruning  the  froth  of  passion  and  the  frippery 
of  sentiment,  and  welding  and  annealing  the  pure  residue  into  the 
fabric  of  enduring  art.  In  Stoddard  the  critic  and  the  creator 
are  united.  Probably  no  living  man  rivals  him  in  knowledge 
of  ancient  and  modern  poetry ;  and  this  knowledge  does  not 
lie  inert  in  his  memory,  but  is  incorporate  in  his  thought,  render- 
ing his  naturally  sound  and  wholesome  taste  next  to  infalhble  in 
questions  of  literary  judgment.  He  has  applied  this  taste  to  his 
own  verse,  leaving  little  for  other  critics  of  it  to  do.  If  anything, 
he  has  been  too  remorseless ;  sometimes  nothing  but  the  naked 
conception  seems  to  be  left.  Yet  in  his  severity  he  never  forgets 
beauty :  he  both  remembers  it  and  understands  it,  as  his  "  Hymn 
to  the  Beautiful"  sufficiently  testifies.  He  finds  it  everywhere, 
and  his  words  are  transfigured  with  its  spirit. 

No  poet  has  written  of  nature  more  delightfully  or  from  more 
loving  observation  than  Stoddard.  His  pictures  of  it  are  more 
than  accurate  :  they  are  bathed  in  a  fairy  atmosphere ;  they  inter- 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY,  273 

pret  the  soul  beneath  the  substance.  Keats  was  one  of  his 
early  masters,  and  his  lines  sometimes  recall  the  English  poet's 
sensuousness  and  color :  but  Stoddard's  nature  is  more  com- 
plex than  Keats's,  and  he  traverses  regions  that  the  latter  never 
knew.  He  has  had  profound  experience  of  the  sadness  as  well 
as  of  the  joy  of  life :  of  loss  as  well  as  of  love.  He 
has  gazed  at  the  great  mysteries,  and,  if  he  has  ?°^™*  °* 
found  them  dark,  he  has  made  that  darkness  seem 
pregnant  and  sublime  to  those  who  follow  him..  He  has  felt 
and  uttered  homely  pathos  as  only  great  writers  have  done. 
He  has  felt  the  tragedy  of  sin,  and  has  spoken  of  it  with  manly 
and  reverent  charity :  he  has  known  the  baseness  of  wrong, 
and  it  has  drawn  from  him  words  of  scorn  and  irony.  In  other 
moods,  he  sings  songs  that  have  the  wild  and  careless  music  of  a 
bird's  song,  yet  always  with  the  human  note  that  brings  it  back  to 
art.  He  has  written  gallant  ballads  of  fiery  romance  and  sweep- 
ing action,  and  he  has  indited  noble  poems  in  blank  verse  —  the 
test  of  poets,  which  he  sustains  with  honor.  There  is  no  recog- 
nized form  of  verse  in  which  he  is  not  accomplished,  nor  has  any 
poet  shown  a  wider  range  of  sympathies  than  he.  Some  men  who 
have  written  true  poetry  had  to  wait  for  the  inspiration  of  a  crisis 
of  the  soul ;  but  Stoddard  finds  poetry  in  all  things.  The  daily 
breath  of  life  that  he  inhales  comes  forth  from  him  again  in  har- 
mony. He  is  a  poet  to  the  marrow.  He  is  never  strange,  remote 
nor  fantastical,  but  a  plain  man  among  men,  speaking  in  a  tongue 
that  all  can  understand,  though  it  is  touched  with  a  fineness  and  a 
fire,  a  sweetness  and  a  grace,  that  are  the  gift  of  poets  only. 

Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  (1833-).  There  is  literature  in 
Stedman's  blood  :  his  ancestors  were  cultivated  people.  He  was 
bom  in  Hartford,  Connecticut,  and  attended  Yale  College.  In  his 
junior  year  he  was  suspended  for  overmuch  vivacity : 
he  took  hold  of  hfe  at  once,  and  by  the  time  he  was 
one  and  twenty  he  was  married,  and  the  editor  of  a  newspaper. 
The  next  ten  years  were  devoted  to  journalism,  and  he  lived  a 
bohemian  life.     In  1861  he  acted  as  war-correspondent  of  "  The 


274 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Edmund  Clarence  Stedman. 


Tribune."  He  had  already  published  a  small  volume  of  poems. 
After  the  close  of  the  war,  he  took  the  step,  noteworthy  for  a 
literary   man,   of   entering  Wall  Street  as  a  banker  and   broker, 

with  the  avowed  object  of  making 
money  enough  to  enable  him  to 
write  at  his  ease.  He  worked  for 
ten  years  both  as  a  business  man 
and  a  poet,  and  was  successful  in 
both  respects.  He  bought  a  hand- 
some house  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  city,  and  it  became  a  literary 
centre.  In  1883  he  lost  the  bet- 
ter part  of  his  wealth,  but  did  not 
yield  to  misfortune.  He  set  to 
work  once  more,  and  recovered 
his  losses ;  finding  opportunity, 
meanwhile,  to  publish  two  works 
of  criticism,  on  "The  Victorian 
Poets"  and  on  ''Poets  of  America."  Among  his  own  poetical 
productions  are  "The -Diamond  Wedding,"  "Bohemia,"  "Old 
John  Brown,"  "Pan  in  Wall  Street,"  "The  Heart  of  New  Eng- 
land," "  Gettysburg,"  "  Laura,  My  Darling  "  and  "  Hawthorne." 

Stedman  has  a  vivid,  energetic  and  social  nature.  He  has 
quick  and  ardent  sympathies,  is  alive  at  all  points,  is  a  man  of  the 
world,  and  withal  an  optimist.  He  is  sagacious  and  cordial, 
always  ready  to  help,  encourage  and  advise  the  younger  genera- 
tion of  Hterary  men.  He  also  delights  in  the  acquaintance  of 
men  in  lines  of  life  totally  distinct  from,  his  own.  He  is  opinion- 
ated, confident  and  voluble,  but  his  conversation  is  witty,  solid 
and  instructive.  He  is  tireless  and  conscientious  in  labor,  and 
his  cheerfulness  is  constant  and  contagious.  His  mind  is  broad 
and  hospitable,  his  critical  taste  fastidious,  but  generous.  His 
scholarship  is  exceptional,  and  his  knowledge  of  hterature  wide 
and  accurate. 

Whatever  there  is  in  Stedman  leaps  forth,  and  is  at  his  fingers' 
tips.     He  has  the  impulse  to  express  all  that  he  feels  or  knows. 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY.  275 

His  literary  ability  is  conspicuous,  and  he  takes  the  same  pleasure 
in  it  that  his  readers  do.  His  poetry  is  at  once  easy  and  polished  ; 
his  prose  is  lucid  and  elegant.  The  fibre  of  his  work  is  fine  and 
strong,  nor  is  it  lacking  in  color  and  picturesqueness.  It  is  emi- 
nently sane,  bright  and  sensible ;  it  is  expressive  rather  than  pro- 
found, and  ardent  rather  than  passionate.  It  does  not  tamper 
with  mysteries  and  enigmas  ;  its  fulness  leaves  little  to  the  imagi- 
nation, and  it  is  more  graceful  and  cultivated  than  imaginative. 
The  poet  is  too  intellectual  ever  to  quite  forget  himself;  he  can 
be  almost  everything  but  un-self-conscious.  But  a  charming  vein 
of  manly  good-fellowship  runs  through  his  verse  ;  it  has  almost 
the  freedom  and  directness  of  talk,  yet  it  is  constructed  with  the 
most  precise  attention  to  art,  form  and  beauty.  Sted- 
man  never  writes  a  careless  or  slovenly  line,  though  ^^^^^  ^ 
he  may  occasionally  write  prose  in  metrical  form. 
He  has  written  nothing  that  is  not  agreeable  reading  —  rich, 
witty,  light,  strong,  various.  Some  of  his  pieces  stir  the  pulse 
like  spiritual  music;  some,  like  ''John  Brown,"  have  a  vigorous, 
homely  strength ;  some,  like  the  "  Diamond  Wedding,"  show 
fine  powers  of  satire  combined  with  thoughtful ness.  The  poem 
of  "  Hawthorne  "  is  noble  and  eloquent,  and  reaches  an  exalted 
level  of  criticism.  Stedman  has  a  lofty  ideal  of  poetry :  he 
recognizes  the  best,  and  can  describe  it,  and  all  but  write  it. 
Some  of  his  idyls  are  models  of  sincerity  and  picturesqueness : 
he  is  impressionable,  and  can  convey  his  impressions.  In  such 
a  poem  as  "  The  Heart  of  New  England,"  on  the  other  hand,  he 
is  austere,  elevated  and  forcible.  He  is  versatile  without  being 
shallow,  and  rapid  but  not  heedless. 

His  two  volumes  of  prose  criticism  are  valuable  for  their  infor- 
mation, broad  scope  and  catholic  judgment.  In  conjunction 
with  Miss  Hutchinson,  he  has  just  completed,  in  ten  large  volumes, 
a  comprehensive  survey  of  American  literature,  embodying  extracts 
from  the  works  of  the  majority  of  known  American  authors,  from 
the  earliest  to  the  latest.  It  is  a  most  useful  compilation  for  the 
student,  and  for  reference.  He  is  still  in  the  prime  of  his  powers 
and  of  his  activity. 


276 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Thomas    Bailey   Aldrich. 


Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich  (183  7-)  was  born  in  Portsmouth, 
New  Hampshire.  His  father  had  business  in  New  Orleans,  and 
the  boy  occasionally  visited  him  there.     After  an  ordinary  school 

education,  tempered  by  desultory 
reading,  and  many  boyish  pranks, 
he  began  his  working  life  as  a 
book-keeper.  But  such  a  career 
was  distasteful  to  him,  and  he 
abandoned  it  for  journalism  and 
other  literary  labors.  After  the 
publication  of  several  volumes  of 
prose  and  poetry,  he  succeeded 
Howells,  in  1880,  as  editor  of 
"The  Atlantic  Monthly,"  and  held 
that  position  for  more  than  ten 
years. 

Aldrich  is  first  of  all  a  wit.  Both 
in  conversation  and  in  writing  he 
He  is  fond  of  refined  practical  jokes, 
and  has  achieved  the  unique  feat  of  perpetrating  several  excellent 
ones  in  his  stories.  "  Marjorie  Daw  "  is  the  best  known  of  these 
"sells";  it  is  managed  with  consummate  and  re- 
morseless art.  All  of  Aldrich's  stories  and  novels  are 
clever,  and  an  unsuspected  trap  lurks  in  almost  all  of 
them.  They  are  masterly  little  structures,  charming  to  read,  but 
without  much  to  anchor  them  in  the  memory.  The  most  widely 
popular  of  his  books  is  probably  his  "Story  of  a  Bad  Boy," 
which  is  autobiographical,  and  contains  a  great  deal  of  fun,  and 
not  a  little  admirable  description.  His  notes  of  travel  are  also 
graphic  and  amusing. 

Delicate  and  nimble  fancy  is  the  characteristic  of  his  poetry. 
It  is  exquisitely  polished,  pointed  and  finished :  it 
is  fine  and  graceful  as  the  arrows  and  arabesques  of 
frost  on  a  window-pane.  There  is  often  an  excellent 
felicity  of  expression,  and  a  subtlety  in  the  thing  expressed,  that 
give  acute  pleasure  to  the  reader.     But  Aldrich  is  a  thoroughly 


is  inveterately  brilliant. 


His  literary 
jokes. 


A  deUcate 
poet. 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY.  211 

artificial  poet ;  his  aim  is  to  produce  an  effect ;  if,  incidentally, 
he  utters  truth  or  wisdom,  so  much  the  better.  He  never  opens 
his  heart  or  his  life ;  none  of  his  poems  are  sincere  self-revela- 
tions. There  is  nothing  vital  in  them.  Aldrich  is  observant, 
literary  and  ingenious;  he  plays  tricks  with  his  intellect;  he 
uses  words  and  ideas  as  a  woman  uses  silks  in  embroidery. 
Many  of  his  best  poems  are  short,  embodying  an  apothegm,  a 
paradox  or  an  epigram.  His  sentiment  recalls  the  compliments 
of  an  eighteenth-century  exquisite  :  his  pathos  and  emotion  are 
masterly  imitations,  filed  and  fashioned  with  the  nicest  assiduity, 
as  in  the  "Baby  Bell."  His  narrative  poems  are  not  interesting. 
At  his  best,  he  surpasses  his  favorite  Herrick  in  daintiness  and 
finish ;  but  he  lacks  Herrick's  naive  feehng  and  power  of  putting 
his  true  self  into  his  work.  But  after  all  is  said,  he  is  a  finished 
literary  workman,  and  has  given  the  public  nothing  that  was  not 
as  nearly  perfect  as  his  best  pains  could  make  it. 

Coates  Kinney  (1826-).  It  was  in  1849  that  Kinney  pub- 
lished a  poem  —  "The  Rain  upon  the  Roof"  —  that  became  a 
favorite  all  over  the  country.  He  forbore  to  follow  up  his  success, 
and  persisted  in  his  forbearance  until  1887,  when  his  "Lyrics  of 
the  Ideal  and  the  Real  "  were  printed.  They  contain  poems, 
mostly  short,  on  a  variety  of  subjects.  But  the  opening  poem, 
"  Pessim  and  Optim,"  is  a  long  one,  and  one  of  the  most  striking 
productions  of  the  day.  It  is  both  philosophic  and  imaginative, 
original  and  profound.  It  is  a  stronger  conception  than  Tenny- 
son's well-known  "  Two  Voices,"  but  less  smooth  in  execution  :  it 
reveals  a  mind  of  a  very  high  and  rare  type.  Kinney  is  direct 
and  often  rugged  in  expression,  but  his  viriHty,  earnestness  and 
scope  are  entirely  exceptional.  Of  all  the  poems  written  about 
children,  few  come  so  straight  from  the  heart,  or  go  to  it  more 
surely,  than  the  four  verses  called  "  Threnody,"  on  the  death  of  a 
little  boy.  "The  Haunting  Voice,"  written  in  1856,  is  but  a  brief 
lyric,  but  it  portrays  in  unforgetable  words  one  whole  dark  phase 
of  human  experience.  "Consummation"  contains  several  pas- 
sages of  subHme  imagery.     In  "The  Shepherd  of  the  Advent,"  in 


278 


AMERICAN  LITER  A  TORE. 


unrhymed  stanzas,  a  splendid  picture  is  powerfully  drawn.  Kinney 
has  been  the  least  voluble  of  our  poets,  but  he  has  shown  quaUties 
that  might  entitle  him  to  rank  with  the  best  of  them. 


Sydney  Lanier  (1842-1881)  was  born  at  Macon,  Georgia. 
He  was  a  college  graduate,  a  soldier  in  the  Confederate  army,  a 
lawyer,  an  invahd,  a  musician  and  a  poet.  He  travelled  to  Texas 
and  elsewhere  in  quest  of  health,  and  much  of  his  work  was  done 
on  a  sick-bed.  For  a  time  he  supported  himself  by  playing  the 
flute  at  concerts  in  Baltimore  :  he  was  accounted  one  of  the  best 

living  performers  on  that  instru- 
ment :  he  also  delivered  lectures 
at  Johns  Hopkins  University  and 
at  the  Peabody  Institute.  In  ad- 
dition to  his  poems  (which  were 
not-  collected  in  a  volume  until 
after  his  death)  he  wrote  a  novel, 
"Tiger  Lilies,"  and  several  books 
for  boys.  He  was  a  man  of  genius, 
and  lived  a  life  of  heroic  struggle 
"^  against  poverty  and  death.  He 
was  deeply  loved  by  those  who 
knew  him. 

One  of  Lanier's  most  original 
works  was  a  treatise  on  "  The 
which  portrays  his  conception  of  the 
nature  of  poetry,  and  of  the  method  of  producing  it.  It  is  a  lucid 
and  exhaustive  study.  His  theory  rests  upon  the  assumption  that, 
in  poetry,  the  appeal  is  in  all  cases  to  the  ear.  The  fundamental 
principles  of  music  and  of  verse  are  discussed,  and 
their  relation  pointed  out.  Many  of  his  own  poems 
illustrate  his  thesis,  and  "  The  Song  of  the  Chatta- 
hoochee "  marries  sound  to  sense  somewhat  after  the  manner  of 
Tennyson's  "Brook."  Lanier  had  an  affluent  imagination,  and 
abundant  art :  indeed,  his  sensitiveness  to  artistic  rules  sometimes 
gave  a  too  conscious  air  to  his  productions.      He  was  enthusi- 


Sydney   Lanier. 


Science  of  English  Verse, 


A  great 
artist. 


WRITERS    OF   TO-DAY.  279 

astic,  passionate  and  ambitious ;  but  his  life  was  too  short  for  the 
mature  development  of  his  genius.  Among  his  best  poems  are 
"The  Stirrup-Cup,"  "From  this  Hundred -Terraced  Height" 
(a  cantata  sung  at  the  Centennial),  "The  Marshes  of  Glynn," 
"  Corn,"  "  Sunrise  "  and  "  The  Symphony." 

Fitz-James  O'Brien  (1828- 1862)  was  born  in  County  Lim- 
erick, Ireland  ;  was  educated  at  Dublin  University,  and  at  twenty- 
one  years  of  age  went  to  London  with  his  inheritance  of  forty 
thousand  dollars,  and  spent  it  all  in  two  years.  In  1852  he  sailed 
for  New  York,  and  the  next  and  last  ten  years  of  his  life  were  spent 
m  America.  He  was  shot  in  a  skirmish  on  the  26th  of  February, 
and  died  five  weeks  later,  at  the  age  of  thirty-four. 

O'Brien  was  personally  interesting  and  fascinating  to  a   high 
degree.     He  had  the  passionate,  wayward,  variable  Celtic  tempera- 
ment.    He  was,  by  turns,  reckless  and  tractable,  fierce  and  gentle, 
defiant  and  affectionate.      He  had  exquisite   poetic   sensibility, 
a  mind  rich  with  scholarship  and  with  experience  of  life,  and  a 
towering   imagination.      His   intellectual   energy  was   surprising; 
some  of  his  best  work  was  done  at  a  sitting.     His  habits  were 
irregular,  thriftless  and  extravagant.     He  was   proud 
and   independent,  and   would    never   accept   aid   in  ^g^j^g 
extremity ;  but  he  was  generous  without  limit.     His 
moods  were   changeable,   from  wild   gaiety  to  saturnine  gloom. 
His  literary  genius  was  extraordinary. 

O'Brien  wrote  much,  though  in  a  fitful  manner :  when  he  had 
made  money  enough  to  meet  his  present  needs,  he  would  write 
no  more  until  it  was  spent.  None  of  his  productions  are  long ; 
poems,  sketches,  dramatic  criticisms  and  stories  were  poured  forth 
promiscuously,  and  were  printed  in  "Harper's  Magazine"  and 
"  Weekly,"  in  "  The  Atlantic  Monthly,"  in  "  Putnam's,"  and  in 
various  newspapers.  In  some  respects  he  resembled  Poe,  who 
also  had  Irish  blood  in  his  veins  :  some  of  his  stories  are  like  Poe's 
in  conception  and  style  ;  but  the  workmanship  is  not  so  sustained 
in  excellence,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  they  are  more  highly 
colored  and  emotional,  and  convey  a  stronger  impression  of  the 


280  AMERICAN  LITERA  TURE. 

personal  element.  He  was  most  prolific  during  the  three  years 
from  1855  to  1857  inclusive.  Several  of  his  tales  were  not  pub- 
lished until  after  his  death.  A  collection  of  some  of  his  best 
stories  was  brought  forth  in  1885  by  the  Scribners,  with  a  preface 
by  WilHam  Winter.  It  was  called  "The  Diamond  Lens,  and 
Other  Stories." 

"  The  Diamond  Lens"  first  appeared  in  '^  The  Atlantic  "  in  1858. 
It  is  a  tale  of  unrestrained  imagination,  and  of  absorbing  interest. 
A  microscopist,  under  the  guidance  of  a  deceased  man  of  science, 
with  whom  he  communicates  through  a  spirit  medium,  constructs 
a  lens  out  of  a  large  diamond,  which  he  obtains  by  murdering  its 
owner.  Having  focused  the  lens  upon  a  drop  of  water,  he 
discerns,  in  an  infinitesimal  globule  (which  has  the  appearance  of 
a  vast,  fairy-like  region)  an  exquisitely  beautiful  living  female  figure. 
He  falls  passionately  in  love  with  her ;  but  the  manifest  impossi- 
bility of  holding  any  communication  with  her  drives  him  to  frenzy ; 
and  at  the  crisis  of  events,  the  drop  of  water  evaporates,  and  he 
sees  the  lovely  maiden  expire  before  his  eyes. 

"  The  Wondersmith,"  published  in  "The  Atlantic  "  the  following 
year,  tells  how  an  evil-disposed  gypsy  succeeds  in  animating  with 
diabolic  souls  the  wooden  bodies  of  innumerable  Httle  toy  mani- 
kins that  he  has  manufactured,  with  intent  to  sell  them  during  the 
winter  holidays,  and  cause  the  death  of  all  the  Christian  children 
who  receive  them  as  presents.  In  "  What  Was  It?  "  we  are  intro- 
duced to  a  unique  conception  of  horror.  A  monster,  invisible  to 
the  eye,  but  palpable  to  the  touch,  attacks  a  man  in  his  chamber, 
and  they  engage  in  a  deadly  struggle.  The  story  is  told  in  detail, 
with  immense  spirit  and  verisimilitude.  The  author  makes  the 
artistic  mistake  of  having  a  cast  made  of  the  terrible  creature,  so 
that  its  form  is  finally  revealed  in  all  its  hideousness  ;  but  no  actual 
hideousness  could  rival  the  imaginative  horror  that  would  have 
remained  in  the  reader's  mind  had  the  invisibility  been  maintained. 

"  The  Lost  Room  "  is  a  conception  of  wild  mystery  ;  and  "  My 
Wife's  Tempter "  is  a  fiercely  dramatic  tale  of  Mormon  intrigue. 
Among  his  poems  are  "The  Zouaves,"  "A  Falling  Star,"  written 
in  a  night ;  "The  Sewing  Bird,"  produced  in  two  sittings  ;  and  "The 
Lost  Steamship." 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY.  281 

Richard  Watson   Gilder    (1843-)    is  a  poet.      His   aim   is 
spiritual :  he  is  a  mystic  of  the  Dante  school.     He  writes  of  love, 
but  in  a  symbol :  his  theme  is  the  soul.     He  is  never  quite  sublime, 
seldom  entirely  masculine ;  but  he  is  subtle,  eloquent, 
felicitous  and  artistic.     He  has  had  a  glimpse  of  the   pog™"^**^^ 
mystic  secret,  —  the  unity  of  the  Universe,  —  and  he 
expresses  his  vision  in  dehcate  music.     The  finish  of  his  verse 
is  almost  excessive  :  a  touch  of  rude  strength  would  be  a  relief; 
yet  purity,  melody  and  elevation  are  worth  much.     His  best  things 
will  always  be  caviare  to  the  general.     He  has  published  "  The 
Celestial  Passion,"  "  The  New  Day  "  and  "  Lyrics,"  besides  other 
poems.     Gilder  has  been  for  ten  years  the  editor  of  "  The  Cen- 
tury Magazine." 

Julian  Hawthorne  (1846-)  was  born  in  Boston,  but  accom- 
panied his  father  to  England  in  1853  ;  and  though  his  school  and 
college  days  were  passed  in  this  country,  he  has  lived,  first  and 
last,  seventeen  years  abroad.  He  began  independent  life  as  a 
civil  engineer,  in  the  New  York  Dock  Department ;  but  on  being 
"rotated  "  out  of  office  in  1872,  he  took  up  literature  as  a  pro- 
fession. 

Julian  Hawthorne  has  been  a  copious  writer,  but  the  bulk  of  his 
production  is  in  magazines  and  newspapers.  He  is  at  his  best 
in  the  imaginative  vein  ;  and  such  stories  as  "  Bressant,"  "  Idola- 
try," "Archibald  Malmaison,"  "The  Pearl-Shell  Necklace"  and 
"  Sinfire,"  indicate  powers  in  the  writer  which,  if  conscientiously 
and  carefully  employed,  might  produce  good  results.  Hawthorne's 
longer  novels  are  "Garth,"  "Sebastian  Strome,"  "Fortune's 
Fool  "  and  "  Dust."  One  of  his  most  useful  works  is  a  biography, 
in  two  volumes,  of  "  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  and  his  Wife."  A  book 
of  German  sketches,  entitled  "  Saxon  Studies,"  was  the  fruit  of  a 
four  years'  residence  in  Dresden. 

Harriet  Prescott  Spofford  (1835-)  was  born  in  Maine.  Her 
early  writings  were  of  great  imaginative  promise,  which  has  not 
been  sustained  by  her  later  work.     "  The  Amber  Gods  "  overflows 


282  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

with  romantic  ideas  and  gorgeous  imagery  —  the  work  of  a  poet 
of  Oriental  temperament  writing  in  melodious  and  passionate  prose. 
Her  style  in  these  earlier  stories  was  full  of  rich  suggestiveness,  so 
that  the  reader  seemed  to  apprehend  more  than  met  the  eye. 
Later  in  life,  Mrs.  Spofford  fell  to  writing  short  love  stories ;  they 
were  commendably  executed,  but  lacked  distinction.  She  has  never 
repeated  the  irregular  charm  of  "  Sir  Rohan's  Ghost,"  '' Azarian  " 
and  the  other  volume  above  mentioned.  The  conventional  require- 
ments of  "  family  periodicals  "  have  stifled  her  genius.    • 

Emma  Lazarus  (1849-188  7)  was  a  woman  of  the  Hebrew 
faith,  of  great  sweetness  and  depth  of  character,  and  of  lofty 
imaginative  genius.  She  made  it  her  theme  and  mission  to  appeal 
through  the  medium  of  verse  to  the  highest  instincts  of  her  race, 
to  recall  to  them  their  sublime  history,  and  to  foreshadow  a  glori- 
ous future.  The  bulk  of  her  writings  was  not  great ;  but  before 
she  died  she  was  recognized  as  a  poet  of  the  first  rank.  It  is  a 
loss  to  our  literature  that  such  a  Daughter  in  Israel  as  Emma 
Lazarus  should  have  departed  so  early. 

Lafcadio  Hearn  (18  -)  has  been  writing  only  a  few  years, 
but  his  "  Stray  Leaves  from  Strange  Literature  "  and  his  stories 
and  sketches  indicate  an  imaginative  and  impetuous  talent,  that 
may  yet  produce  work  of  the  first  class.  He  is  a  Southerner  by 
birth.  Celia  Thaxter  (1836-),  Edith  Thomas  (185  7-)  and 
Alice  Gary  (1820-1871)  and  Phoebe  Gary  (1824-1871)  have 
written  graceful  and  picturesque  verse. 

Analytic  Novelists. 

As  the  bulk  of  literature  and  the  number  of  authors  increase, 
the  tendency  to  specialism  becomes  more  marked.  In  a  country 
so  large  as  this,  and  characterized  by  so  many  different  interests 
and  modes  of  existence,  novelists,  as  well  as  other  writers,  will  be 
found  devoting  themselves  more  and  more  to  particular  aspects 
and  veins  of  life.  At  present^  we  often  see  one  writer  active  in 
more  than  one  direction  ;  but,  as  competition  develops,  this  may 
be  expected  to  become  rare.     In  this  classification  we  shall  place 


WRITERS   OF  TO-DAY.  283 

authors  on  the  basis  of  their  more  notable  and  characteristic 
works.  The  analytic  novelists  take  their  cue  from  James  and 
Howells.  They  go  behind  action,  and  endeavor  to  explain  its 
motive  —  thus  taking  their  stand  at  once  in  the  mental  and  in  the 
material  sphere.  Their  method  is  the  opposite  of  that  of  Walter 
Scott,  Dickens  and  Thackeray.  It  is  open  to  the  abuse  of  render- 
ing the  narrative  too  turgid  and  uneventful,  and  of  entering  too 
deeply  into  metaphysical  sophistries.  Discreetly  employed,  how- 
ever, it  gives  substance  to  the  story,  and  broadens  our  conception 
of  the  characters. 

Edgar  Fawcett  (184  7-)  was  bom  in  New  York,  and  has  a 
familiarity  with  the  phases  of  life  in  that  city  which  recalls  Bal- 
zac's knowledge  of  Paris.  He  is  experienced  in  all  kinds  of 
literary  work,  from  Hterary  criticism  to  play-writing ;  he  is  dih- 
gent,  and  bestows  pains  on  all  he  does.  No  American  writer  has 
improved  more  steadily  than  he.  He  has  been  an  especial  stu- 
dent of  style,  and  in  his  earlier  productions  he  reflected  the 
methods  of  composition  of  several  different  authors.  The  posses- 
sion of  a  strong  poetic  gift  assisted  him  in  refining  his  language, 
and  he  can  now  use  this  instrument  as  skilfully  as 
any  writer  before  the  public.  In  his  point  of  view  as  no^ust*" 
a  novelist,  he  has  been  to  a  great  extent  influenced 
by  the  example  of  Henry  James  ;  but  he  differs  from  James  in 
that  his  plots  are  uniformly  strongly  dramatic,  and  put  together 
with  a  deftness  and  point  that  remind  one  of  the  modern  French 
novel.  His  portrayal  of  character  is  distinct  and  vivid.  Faw- 
cett has  always  been  sensitive  to  impressions  :  and  this  sensi- 
tiveness, which,  while  he  was  new  to  his  calling,  and  had  not 
acquired  the  art  of  curbing  his  utterance,  was  the  source  of 
most  of  his  faults,  has  since  become  the  cause  of  his  best  eff'ects. 
Ten  or  fifteen  years  ago,  the  emotion  in  his  stories  was  too 
hysterical ;  his  episodes  were  too  violent ;  he  described  too 
minutely  and  constantly.  But  that  quality  which  had  controlled 
him,  he  at  last  controlled,  and  it  has  served  him  well.  His 
episodes  are  temperately  handled,  yet  intrinsically  powerful :  his 


284  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

perception  of  shades  of  character  is  delicate ;  his  manner  of  por- 
trayal felicitous.  He  can  enter  sympathetically  into  the  most 
diverse  natures,  and  shed  light  upon  their  structure  and  develop- 
ment. His  faculty  of  observation  is  exceptional,  and  he  still  needs 
to  broaden  rather  than  to  sharpen  his  gaze  —  to  see  things  less  in 
detail,  and  more  in  the  mass. 

One  of  Fawcett's  best  novels  of  contemporary  Hfe  is  "  The 
House  at  High-Bridge  " ;  in  quite  another  style  is  his  weird,  im- 
aginative tale  of  "  Douglas  Duane,"  in  which  a  quasi-scientific 
miracle  of  transferred  life  is  described.  His  volume  of  "  Social 
Silhouettes  "  of  New  York  character,  shows  wide  knowledge  of  the 
subject,  and  satiric  power.  In  addition  to  his  many  novels,  he  has 
written  two  volumes  of  poetry,  "  Song  and  Story,"  and  "  Romance 
.and  Revery,"  which  include  some  excellent  narrative  poems,  sev- 
eral impassioned  lyrics,  and  a  number  of  good  sonnets.  All  are 
done  in  the  modern  manner,  but  are  stronger  in  imagination  than 
is  most  contemporary  verse. 

George  Parsons  Lathrop  (1851-)  was  born  of  American 
parents  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  has  lived  several  years  in 
Europe ;  but  his  Hterary  life  has  been  spent  in  New  York  and 
Boston.  He  is  of  a  poetic  and  imaginative  temperament,  and  has 
written  delicate  and  beautiful  poems,  and  some  that  are  strong 
and  ringing.  His  best  novels  deal  in  psychologic  analysis :  the 
most  widely  known  is  "An  Echo  of  Passion,"  a  powerful  and 
moving  story.  Other  stories  of  his  are  "  In  the  Distance,"  where 
the  scene  is  among  the  New  England  hills ;  "  Newport,"  which 
pictures  life  at  the  fashionable  watering-place ;  and  "  Would  you 
Kill  Him  ? "  containing  an  admirable  description  of  a  panic  on 
Wall  Street.  But  it  is  evident  that  Lathrop  has  much  yet  in  re- 
serve :  it  is  likely  that  he  will  live  to  produce  something  which  will 
throw  into  the  shade  his  former  efforts,  honorable  though  they  are. 
Besides  his  poems  and  novels,  Lathrop  constructed  a  play  in  blank 
verse,  "  Elaine,"  which  was  successfully  enacted  at  the  Madison 
Square  Theatre  in  New  York. 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY.  2S5 

Sarah  Orne  Jewett  (1849-)  is  a  New  Englander  by  birth; 
and  her  stories  depict  the  quiet  phases  of  New  England  life.  She 
has  a  delicate  and  quiet  vein  of  genius,  which  was  apparent  in  her 
first  book,  "  Deephaven,"  and  has  been  perfected  by  experience. 
She  contemplates  nature  and  humanity  with  a  seeing  eye,  and 
describes  them  with  a  firm  restraint  of  touch.  Her  Httle  narra- 
tives are  like  reflections  in  a  Claude- Lorraine  mirror  —  truthful, 
harmonious,  artistic.  The  thread  of  plot  is  slight,  but  pleasing : 
the  charm  is  in  the  refinement  and  subdety  of  the  telling.  Some 
of  her  most  delightful  work  is  in  the  volume  called  "A  White 
Heron."  She  is  a  tender,  serene  and  cultivated  writer.  She  can 
scarcely  be  termed  analytic ;  her  touch  in  that  direction  is  very 
light ;  but  she  gives  more  attention  to  the  mental  and  moral  idio- 
syncrasies of  her  characters  than  to  their  physical  manifestations. 

Philander  Deming  (1829-)  somewhat  resembles  Miss  Jewett 
in  his  style  and  choice  of  subjects.  He  gives  a  quiet  and  sympa- 
thetic picture  of  quiet  and  retired  lives,  and  of  their  environment. 
Nothing  is  strained  or  over-colored  :  the  touches  are  delicate  but 
truthful,  and  every  touch  tells.  The  moral  ideal  of  the  author  is 
pure  and  high,  and  there  is  a  lovely  artistic  completeness  in  each 
tale.  Deming  has  written  very  little  ;  but  such  stories  as  "  I.ida 
Ann"  and  *' Tompkins  "  make  up  for  quantity  by  quahty. 

Constance  Fennimore  Woolson  (1845-)  began  twenty  years 
ago  to  contribute  short  stories  to  "  Appleton's  Journal "  and  other 
periodicals ;  and  more  recently  gained  deserved  reputation  by  her 
novels  "Anne"  and  "For  the  Major."  J.  F.  Stimson  ("J.  S. 
of  Dale")  (185  -)  is  the  author  of  several  stories  which  show 
fine  literary  taste  and  ability;  and  Arthur  Sherborne  Hardy 
(185  -),  in  "  But  yet  a  Woman,"  has  presented  a  touching  story 
of  a  woman's  life  and  love,  told  with  a  reserve  and  an  insight  that 
evince  a  genuine  and  sincere  hterary  gift. 

Romantic  Novelists. 

Under  this  head  we  group  those  writers  who  seek  to  convey 
their  effects  by  means  of  the  drift  and  situations  of  the  story, 


2S6 


AMERICAN  LITER  A  TURE. 


rather  than  by  the  development  and  analysis  of  character.  In  the 
best  novels  of  this  class,  the  characters  and  the  plot  are  so  well 
harmonized  that  the  unfolding  of  the  one  is  the  unfolding  of  both  ; 
in  the  least  successful,  the  characters  are  mere  pegs  on  which  the 
story  hangs.  Books  of  the  former  division  approximate  to  the 
analytic  group  :  those  of  the  latter  merge  into  the  merely  sensa- 
tional. But  some  of  the  most  deservedly  popular  novels  in  the 
world  have  been  written  by  romantic  novelists. 


Helen  Hunt  Jackson  ("H.  H.")  (i 831-1885).     It  was  only 
in  the  latter  years  of  her  life  that  Mrs.  Jackson  became  a  novelist. 

Her  earlier  product  was  in  the 
form  of  poetry.  She  thought 
deeply  and  with  a  kind  of  exalted 
logic  on  spiritual  questions,  and 
expounded  her  conclusions  in  con- 
cise and  weighty  verse.  Beauty 
and  passion  were  not  her  chief 
objects ;  she  wished  to  state  clearly 
the  issue  of  the  conflict  between 
the  human  and  the  divine  in  na- 
ture. She  had  not  Emerson's 
subHme  vision,  but  her  aim  was 
similar  to  his  :  and  in  his  "  Parnas- 
sus "  he  cordially  recognizes  her 
success.  She  studied  the  trials  and 
temptations  of  life  as  problems,  and  formulated  the  solutions  in 
grave  and  eloquent  rhyme. 

But  the  winning  and  humorous  side  of  her  character  appeared 
in  her  prose  descriptions  of  travel  and  phases  of  existence,  col- 
lected under  the  title  of  "  Bits  of  Travel."  It  would 
^'*BUs^o7^  be  difficult  to  speak  too  highly  of  the  style  and  spirit 
Travel."  of  these  narrations.  The  humor  is  all-pervading,  and 
carries  pathos  with  it :  a  lovely,  human  light  irradiates 
the  pages,  and  makes  the  foibles  of  the  characters  as  charming 
as  their  virtues.      A  broad,   charitable,  human  mind  is  at  work, 


Helen   Hunt  Jackson. 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY.  1^1 

with  the  delicate  insight  of  a  woman,  and  a  steady  healthfulness 
of  mood  that  we  are  more  accustomed  to  expect  from  the  mas- 
cuUne  genius. 

Several  volumes  of  a  character  more  or  less  similar  to  "  Bits  of 
Travel "  had  been  put  forth,  when,  towards  the  close  of  her  Hfe, 
circumstances  drew  Mrs.  Jackson's  attention  to  the  wrongs  in- 
flicted by  the  agents  of  our  government  upon  the  Indians.  She 
made  an  earnest  and  exhaustive  study  of  the  situation,  and  her 
sympathies  became  passionately  enlisted.  The  same  hatred  of 
injustice  and  enthusiasm  for  right  that  actuated  the  American 
colonies  in  their  revolt  against  English  oppression,  and  the  Abo- 
litionists of  New  England  in  their  crusade  against  the  principle 
of  slavery,  now  aroused  Mrs.  Jackson  to  become  the  champion 
of  the  Indians.  Her  whole  heart  and  soul  were  de- 
voted to  their  cause;  and  the  seeds  of  fatal  disease    "A  Century 

^  of  Dlshon- 

apparent  in  her   constitution    served   only  to   hasten   ©r." 

her  action  and  intensify  her  zeal.  The  first  literary 
Jesuit  was  the  publication  of  "A  Century  of  Dishonor,"  in 
which  an  impassioned  appeal  is  made  from  the  base  and  selfish  to 
the  nobler  altruistic  sentiment  of  the  nation  :  the  wrongs  of  the 
Indians  are  eloquently  and  vehemently  set  forth,  and  a  ringing 
demand  made  for  humanity  and  justice.  But  Mrs.  Jackson  rec- 
ognized that  in  order  to  reach  the  mass  of  the  people,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  cast  her  ideas  in  the  form  of  fiction  ;  and  accordingly, 
no  sooner  was  "  A  Century  of  Dishonor  "  published,  than  she  set 
about  the  writing  of  her  great  story  of  "  Ramona."  This  was  the 
expiring  effort  of  her  genius,  and  is  by  far  its  most  powerful  and 
memorable  illustration.  The  story  is  deeply  interesting,  the  lit- 
erary skill  is  adequate,  and  the  burning  purpose  of  the  book  does 
not  lead  the  writer  to  forget  the  obligations  of  art.  It  marks  the 
worthy  close  of  a  noble  career,  and  insures  Mrs.  Jackson  a  place 
in  the  literature  of  our  country  which  few  of  her  sex  can  be  held 
to  have  attained. 

Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps  (1844-).     Imaginative  speculations 
as  to  human  life  beyond  the  grave  have  occupied  a  large  share  of 


288 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps 


Miss  Phelps's  attention,  and  have  given  her  a  wide  and  unique 
reputation.  Such  books  as  ''The  Gates  Ajar,"  "The  Gates 
Between"  and  "Beyond  the 
Gates,"  arguing  from  the  Hfe  we 
know  to  the  Hfe  we  know  not, 
could  not  fail  to  attract  popular 
curiosity;  and  the  fact  that  the 
conclusions  they  pronounce  are 
agreeable  to  hope,  are  morally  ele- 
vated and  have  a  sort 

The  other        ^f  rational  plausibility, 
world  in  i  7  > 

fiction.  has  caused  them  to  be 

popular.  Apart  from 
this  series  of  books.  Miss  Phelps 
has  devoted  herself  to  story-writ- 
ing. The  stories  have  a  manifest 
moral,  but  they  are  conceived  in- 
tensely, and  ably  executed.  The  trials,  temptations  and  sorrows  of 
the  poor  are  tenderly  portrayed,  and  the  conflict  in  woman's  nature 
between  the  claims  of  love  and  the  aspirations  for  a  career  is  sympa- 
thetically depicted  —  as  in  "  The  Story  of  Avis  "  and  "  Doctor  Zay." 
The  female  characters  in  her  stories  are  often  excellent :  the  men 
are  apt  to  be  unreal  or  extravagant.  Extravagance,  in  thought 
and  style,  is  Miss  Phelps's  chief  foible.  She  is  vividly  emotional, 
—  at  times  almost  hysterical,  —  and  this  trait  is  detrimental  to  her 
artistic  integrity.  The  personal  element  is  too  prominent :  she  is 
never  so  successful  as  when  she  speaks  in  some  other  character 
than  her  own.  As  soon  as  she  begins  to  talk  about  her  characters, 
the  reader  is  liable  to  receive  a  shock.  It  sometimes  seems  as  if,  to 
her  mind,  sense  and  grammar  were  incompatible.  It  is  singular  that 
one  so  competent  to  delineate  what  is  tender,  pure  and  spiritual 
in  human  life  should  be  so  destitute  of  rhetorical  conscience. 
Apart  from  these  faults,  her  stories  are  often  developed  with  an 
exquisite  spontaneity,  heightened  by  touches  that  only  a  woman  — 
we  might  say,  only  Miss  Phelps  —  could  apply.  Their  merits  and 
beauties  cannot,  like  their  faults,  be  analyzed ;  the  finest  of  them 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY.  289 

are  too  fine  to  be  described.  Though  often  short,  they  touch 
large  subjects  with  truth  and  effect.  "  The  Madonna  of  the  Tubs  " 
and  "  Jack  "  are  good  instances  of  both  her  faults  and  her  merits. 
Since  her  recent  marriage  to  the  editor  of  "  The  Independent," 
she  has  produced,  in  conjunction  with  him,  a  novel  the  scene  of 
which  is  in  Palestine,  at  the  time  of  the  Christian  era. 

Edward  P.  Roe  (i  838-1 888)  entered  the  army  as  chaplain  of 
a  cavalry  regiment,  and  held  that  position  throughout  the  war. 
His  regiment  saw  much  active  service,  and  Mr.  Roe  was  made 
acquainted  with  human  nature  in  its  most  undisguised  and  sponta- 
neous forms.  At  the  time  of  the  Chicago  fire,  he  visited  that  city, 
and  was  moved  to  write  a  story,  of  which  the  incident  of  the  fire 
should  be  the  centre  of  interest.  This  novel  —  "  Barriers  Burned 
Away"  —  achieved  an  immediate  and  immense  popularity,  which 
encouraged  its  author  to  proceed  on  the  same  lines.  Up  to  the 
time  of  his  death  he  continued  to  produce  one  or  two  stories 
every  year,  and  the  aggregate  sales  of  his  books  did  not  fall  short 
of  a  million.  Besides  his  novels,  he  wrote  several  valuable  treatises 
on  fruit-raising  and  gardening  ("  Success  with  Small  Fruits,"  "The 
Home  Acre,"  etc.)  which  were  founded  on  the  results  of  practical 
experience. 

Roe  did  not  possess  the  fine  literary  gift  that  it  has  become 
common  to  expect  in  successful  writers  nowadays ;  his  style  is 
commonplace,  and  there  are  no  lofty  flights  of  imagi- 
nation in  his  stories.  His  books  have  a  moral  pur-  aoveiisr°™* 
pose :  they  inculcate  a  lesson  :  the  love-interest  is 
conventional,  passing  through  difficulties  and  troubles  to  a  happy 
conclusion.  But  Roe's  readers  are  the  great  middle-class  of 
the  American  people  :  the  men  and  women  whose  solid  quali- 
ties constitute  the  social  and  industrial  prosperity  of  the  nation. 
These  people  read  Roe's  books  not  for  entertainment  merely, 
but  for  the  truth,  the  hope,  the  manly  goodness  that  they  every- 
where display.  The  writer  was  educated  in  the  sternest  and 
tenderest  school  that  has  been  open  to  the  men  of  his  generation. 
The  rough  soldiers  with  whom  he  associated  loved  and  trusted 


290 


AMERICAN  LITER  A  TURE. 


him  as  a  brother :  and  on  the  eve  of  battles,  or  at  the  bedside  of 
the  dying,  he  was  the  recipient  of  their  confidences.  With  these 
men  he  talked,  Uved  and  sympathized  for  years,  sharing  their 
privations,  combating  their  evils,  shouldering  their  responsibilities, 
vindicating  before  them  the  love  and  goodness  of  God.  No  man 
among  them  was  manher  than  he.  He  learned  there  what  human 
nature  is,  and  took  to  heart  the  lesson.  His  faith  and  charity 
were  strengthened  and  deepened  by  experience.  His  whole 
heart  was  in  every  effort  that  he  made,  and  in  his  literary  efforts 
no  less  than  in  others.  He  wrote  because  be  felt  impelled  to  write, 
and  wished  to  convey  to  others  what  he  had  himself  beheved — that 
man  is  master  of  his  moral  fate,  and  that  evil  is  never  unconquera- 
ble by  good.  He  wrote  with  emotion,  conviction  and  reverence  ; 
and  produced  a  series  of  healthy,  hopeful,  mascuhne  stories,  the 
characters  in  which  were  drawn  from  that  great  class  of  the  com- 
mon people  to  which  he  appealed.  Posterity  is  not  likely  to  pre- 
serve them,  but  they  have  merited  their  popularity,  in  having  been 
the  source  of  innocent  entertainment  and  moral  benefit  to  milUons 
of  readers. 

Lew  Wallace  (1828-)  is  the  author  of  two  romances  not  less 

popular  than  Roe's.  Like  Roe, 
he  lacks  the  literary  gift  —  a  qual- 
ity hard  to  define,  save  by  neg- 
atives. But  it  would  be  rash  to 
say  that  books  like  these  succeed 
\\  \\.\^MHBi^dMt  ]  because    they    are    not   literary. 

'''^•ww' J^^^^H^^B?'  ^^^^  ^"^  ^^^^^  ^^  ixovii  the  press 

still-born.  Literary  excellence  is 
no  more  a  recommendation  than 
a  deterrent  to  the  mass  of  read- 
ers. Wallace  and  Roe  are  popu- 
lar in  their  day  because  of  some 
real  worth  in  what  they  have  to 
say,  irrespective  of  the  manner  in 
Lew  Wallace.  which  it  is  Said.      General  Wal- 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY.  291 


lace's  first  book  was  a  story  of  the  conquest  of  Mexico  by  Cortez. 
The  epoch  of  "The  Fair  God"  is  picturesquely  de- 
scribed, and  the  narrative  is  full  of  action,  color  and  r^^anceT^^ 
excitement.  The  combats  and  battles  are  vigorously 
portrayed,  and  brave  men  and  lovely  women  make  love  and  mis- 
chief as  in  the  romances  of  old  time.  The  archaeological  knowl- 
edge displayed  by  the  writer  is  abundant  and  accurate.  His  other 
novel  —  "Ben  Hur :  A  Tale  of  the  Christ"  —  takes  us  back  to 
the  beginning  of  our  era,  and  summons  before  us  a  series  of 
strange  and  splendid  scenes.  The  best-known  passage  is  that 
describing  a  chariot  race  —  a  vigorous  and  stirring  example  of 
descriptive  prose.  Wallace's  stories  carry  the  reader  swiftly  along, 
after  the  manner  of  Scott's  romances  :  but  he  has  none  of  the 
great  Scotchman's  power  of  drawing  character,  nor  anything  of 
his  humor. 

Charles  King  (1844-)  is  a  graduate  of  West  Point,  and  served 

gallantly  in  the  Fifth  Cavalry  ;  he  was  repeatedly  wounded  in  the 

Indian  wars.      In  1879  his  wounds  compelled  him  to  go  on  the 

retired  list ;  since  then  he  has  applied  himself  to  authorship.     In 

some  half-dozen  or  more  lively  and  romantic  stories  he  has  depicted 

army  life   on  the  plains,  giving  an  inside  view  of  the  American 

soldier's  post-bellum  existence  that  has  a  historical 

value,  as  well  as  a  strong;  narrative  interest.     His  hero-   ^^P^tal  sto- 
,  r  ,         1   ,  •    ,  11.  ,  "es  of  miii- 

mes  are  beautiiul,  and  his  heroes  dashmg  and  attrac-  tary  Ufe. 

tive.  Most  of  his  novels  appeared  in  "  Lippincott's 
Magazine,"  and  found  many  readers.  They  are  stories  of  inci- 
dent, but  the  character-drawing  is  often  good.  They  have  not  the 
literary  merit  of  some  of  John  Strange  Winter's  stories,  but  their 
healthy,  hearty  sentiment  compensates  for  many  deficiencies. 
Captain  King's  work  improves  in  quality  as  he  goes  on.  Among 
his  books  are  "  The  Colonel's  Daughter,"  "  Dunraven  Ranch," 
«  From  the  Ranks  "  and  "  The  Deserter." 

William  Henry  Bishop  (184  7-)  is  more  properly  a  literary 
man  than  is  any  of  the  three  writers  last  mentioned  :  he  has  talent. 


292  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

depth,  large  experience  of  life  and  a  decided  vein  of  odd  and 
original  humor,  the  more  remarkable  for  the  reticence  observed 
in  its  use.  But  in  the  making  of  his  books,  he  has  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  be  distracted  by  two  opposing  influences.  His  natural 
tendency,  as  exhibited  in  his  best  short  stories,  is  to  choose 
singular  and  recondite  subjects,  and  to  treat  them  somewhat  after 
the  manner  of  Poe  and  Fitz-James  O'Brien.  His  literary  con- 
science, on  the  other  hand,  inclines  him  to  accept  the  gospel 
enbodied  in  the  works  of  James  and  Howells ;  and  his  longer, 
serious  novels  are  accordingly  overburdened  with  description,  and 
with  comments  on  character.  But  he  has  not  quite  the  art  to 
make  them  attractive,  and  his  novels,  though  meritorious,  are, 
therefore,  apt  to  be  dull.  If  some  such  motive  as  that  which  is  found 
in  ''  One  of  the  Thirty  Pieces,"  or  in  "  Mclntyre's  False  Face,"  were 
expanded  into  a  theme  for  a  novel,  the  result  might  be  valuable  : 
but  productions  like  "Detmold,"  "The  Home  of  a  Merchant 
Prince  "  and  "  The  Yellow  Snake,"  though  they  contain  romantic 
stories,  are  rendered  sluggish  and  ineffective  by  the  load  of  expla- 
nation and  analysis  that  is  heaped  upon  them.  Bishop  has  written 
a  volume  of  travel-sketches  on  "  Mexico  and  the  Lost  Provinces," 
which  are  excellent  examples  of  that  kind  of  work.  He  has  lately 
been  living  abroad. 

Henry  Harland  ("Sydney  Luska")  (t86  -)  became  known 
a  few  years  ago  as  the  author  of  "  Mrs.  Peixada  "  and  "  The  Yoke 
of  the  Thora,"  novels  dealing  with  Jewish  character  and  life  in 
New  York.  It  was  a  new  field,  the  stories  were  striking  and 
unhackneyed  and  the  characters  were  strongly  presented.  Few 
writers  so  young  as  Harland  have  shown  better  literary  taste,  or 
faculties  more  promising.  He  followed  up  his  success  with  other 
stories  and  short  novels,  which,  if  not  better  done  than  the  first, 
were  at  least  not  inferior  to  them.  But  he  recognized  that  the 
vein  he  was  working  had  its  Hmits,  and  in  1888  he  sailed  for 
England,  in  search  of  fresh  materials  and  impressions,  and  he  still 
resides  there. 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY.  293 

In  addition  to  the  above  may  be  named  John  Habberton, 
author  of  the  famous  Httle  story  of  "  Helen's  Babies "  and  of 
"  Breuton's  Bayou,"  "All  He  Knew"  and  many  other  novels; 
H.  H.  Boyesen,  author  of  "  Gunnar"  and  numerous  well-written 
novels  and  romances ;  Robert  Grant,  author  of  "  The  Little  Tin 
Gods  on  Wheels,"  "  An  Average  Man  "  and  other  novels,  and  of 
books  for  boys  ;  Louisa  M.  Alcott,  author  of  "  Litde  Women  "  and 
other  charming  books  for  children ;  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett, 
author  of  "  That  Lass  o'  Lowrie's,"  "  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy,"  etc. ; 
Louis  Pendleton,  who  has  written  some  admirable  Southern  stories 
—  "In  the  Wire  Grass,"  "Bewitched,"  etc.;  Christian  Reid,  a 
Southern  writer,  who  has  written  a  series  of  excellent  stories,  begin- 
ning with  "Valerie  Aylmer";  Anna  Katherine  Greene,  whose 
specialty  is  sensational  stories  of  the  better  class,  like  "  The  Leaven- 
worth Case  "  ;  Amelie  Rives,  whose  story  of  "  The  Quick  or  the 
Dead?"  created  a  temporary  impression;  and  Edgar  Saltus,  a 
brilliant  and  epigrammatic  novelist,  bold  and  unconventional  in  his 
choice  and  handling  of  subjects,  whose  orbit  it  is  still  too  early  to 
calculate. 

Dialect  Novelists. 

The  United  States,  though  united,  are  as  yet  far  from  being 
homogeneous  as  regards  the  character  of  their  inhabitants ;  and 
the  habits  and  speech  of  the  people  of  one  section  are  still  strange 
to  those  of  another.  A  class  of  writers  has  naturally  arisen  whose 
mission  it  is  to  report  the  ways  of  oudying  districts  to  their 
countrymen.  As  a  rule,  the  prophets  of  such  regions  are  also 
natives  of  them,  and  they  have  made  it  their  special  fanction  to 
reproduce  the  dialect  of  the  neighborhood.  Many  of  them  make 
a  study  of  negro  solecisms  ;  others  of  the  patois  of  the  New  Orleans 
Creoles,  or  of  the  mountaineers  of  Tennessee  and  Virginia,  or  of 
the  blue-grass  Kentuckians.  The  term  "  Dialect  Novelists "  is 
not  always  completely  descriptive  of  these  writers,  but  no  other  is, 
on  the  whole,  so  comprehensive.  Artistically  employed,  dialect 
illuminates  character,  and  individualizes  the  speaker ;  but  if  used 
without  proper  discrimination,  it  has  a  precisely  opposite  effect. 


294 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


and  actually  obscures  both  characters  and  story.  Dialect  stories 
have  been  in  demand  in  the  magazines  of  late  years,  and  have 
been  much  debased  by  incompetent  and  pseudo-humorous  writers. 
But  there  remains  a  body  of  Hterature  in  which  the  principle  is 
applied  with  discretion  and  good  effect.  In  the  process  of  time, 
dialect  must  disappear,  and  then  these  books  will  acquire  a  phil- 
ological value  in  addition  to  whatever  literary  worth  they  may 
possess. 


Joel  Chandler  Harris  (1848-)  was  born  in  Eatonton,  Central 
Georgia,  and  has  all  his  life  been  an  inhabitant  of  that  state :  he 
lives  at  present  in  Atlanta,  and  edits  the  "  Constitution,"  one  of 
the  influential  papers  of  the  South.  As  a  writer  of  political  edito- 
rials, he  is  broad-minded  and  progressive,  and  has  done  much  to 
promote  cordial  relations  between  the  South  and  the  North. 

But  his  fame,  which  extends  all  over  the  United  States,  and  has 
found  its  way  to  England  and  the  British  colonies  in  all  parts  of 
the  globe,  is  founded  upon  writings  of  a  very  diiferent  sort.     It  is 

less  than  ten  years  ago  since  innu- 
merable readers  began  to  read  and 
extol  "Uncle  Remus."  The  vol- 
ume that  bore  this  title  contained 
some  of  the  songs,  some  of  the 
philosophy  and  some  of  the  quaint 
legends  of  animals  current  among 
negroes  in  the  South  before  the 
war.  "  Uncle  Remus  "  himself  is  a 
plantation  darkey  of  the  old  school, 
who  tells  to  his  master's  little  boy 
marvellous  and  fascinating  stories, 
and  sings  the  songs  and  preaches 
the  doctrines  of  his  race,  using 
throughout  the  negro  dialect  in  its 
classic  purity.  The  success  of  the  first  collection  of  sketches  (which 
were  originally  contributed  to  the  columns  of  the  "  Atlanta  Con- 
stitution ")  led  Harris  to  supplement  them  with  "  A  Rainy  Day 


Joel  Chandler  Harris. 


WRITERS   OF  TO-DAY.  295 

with  Uncle  Remus  "  and  "Nights  with  Uncle  Remus."  All  classes 
of  readers  enjoy  these  inimitable  books.  Children  delight  in  the 
personifications  of  animals,  and  in  their  endless  plot-  i^^  master 
ting  and  counter-plotting ;  the  elders  are  charmed  by  of  dialect 
the  sly  humor,  the  original  philosophy  and  the  fan-  ^*°  ^' 
tastic  conceits;  the  critics  praise  the  faithful  skill  and  literary 
genius  that  render  the  stories  masterpieces  in-  themselves,  as 
well  as  records  of  a  folk-lore  heretofore  unknown  to  literature. 
Harris  had  a  high  ideal  of  what  dialect  sketches  should  and 
should  not  be.  In  the  preface  to  ''Uncle  Remus"  he  says:  "If 
the  language  of  Uncle  Remus  fails  to  give  vivid  hints  of  the 
really  poetic  imagination  of  the  negro  :  if  it  fails  to  embody  the 
quaint  and  homely  humor  which  was  his  most  prominent  char- 
acteristic :  if  it  does  not  suggest  a  certain  picturesque  sensitive- 
ness, —  a  curious  exaltation  of  mind  and  temperament  not  to  be 
expressed  in  words,  —  then  I  have  reproduced  the  form  of  dialect 
merely,  and  not  the  essence,  and  my  attempt  may  be  accounted  a 
failure."  Tried  by  this  high  test,  his  work  is  the  best  of  its  kind. 
"Free  Joe  and  the  Rest  of  the  World  "  is  a  story,  in  which 
humor  and  pathos  play  equal  parts,  of  a  negro  who  had  been  freed 
by  the  suicide  of  his  master,  while  the  rest  of  his  race  was  still 
enslaved.  But  the  negro  has  not  monopolized  Harris's  attention. 
In  "Little  Compton,"  "Azalia,"  "Trouble  on  Lost  Mountain" 
and  "  At  Teague  Poteet's,"  he  has  dealt  with  peculiar  phases  of 
Southern  life,  and  has  shown  the  same  careful  and  accurate  study, 
and  power  of  truthful  and  delicate  characterization,  that  marked 
his  earlier  work.  One  is  tempted  to  say  that  it  is  in  Harris's  option 
to  make  himself  the  foremost  American  novelist ;  and  since  he  is 
still  a  young  man,  it  is  worth  his  while  to  try. 

George  Washington  Cable  (1844-).  After  a  youth  of  priva- 
tion, self-abnegation  and  hard  work  (including  two  years'  active 
service  in  the  Confederate  ranks)  Cable  found  himself  a  journalist 
in  his  native  city  of  New  Orleans.  He  was  a  born  writer  of  stories, 
and  was  finally  led  to  picture  the  life  about  him  in  the  guise  of 
fiction.     It  was  a  fife  which  he  knew  thoroughly  in  all  its  branches, 


296 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


George  Washington  Cable. 


and  which  had  never,  up  to  this  time,  had  an  adequate  expositor. 
It  was  a  rich  field  for  romantic  and  poetic  cultivation.     Creole  life 

in  New  Orleans,  with  its  unique 
social  and  political  conditions,  fur- 
nished the  basis  of  his  books, — 
"Old  Creole  Days,"  "The  Gran- 
dissimes,"  "  Dr.  Sevier  "  and  "  Ma- 
dame Delphine."  He  has  also 
published  descriptive  sketches  of 
the  Acadians  in  Louisiana,  and 
several  historical  studies.  In  a  lit- 
erary sense,  he  has  made  his  native 
state  his  own. 

The  Creoles  are  a  people  char- 
acterized by  warm  impulses,  fiery 
passions  and  gracious  and  grace- 
ful behavior.  Cable's  kindly  heart 
and  love  of  beauty  fits  him  to  enter 
sympathetically  into  the  portrayal  of  their  romantic  and  chivalric 
existence ;  but  though  he  makes  the  most  of  the  charm  of  this 
pecuhar  Southern  Hfe,  he  deals  with  higher  subjects  than  those 
that  appeal  only  to  taste  :  he  deals  with  wrongs  and  grievances, 
with  the  strong  passions  of  love  and  ambition ;  pathos  is,  perhaps, 
his  strongest  note.  The  story  of  Bras  Coup6  in  "  The  Grandis- 
simes  "  is  one  of  the  most  vivid  and  pathetic  stories  in  our  lan- 
guage. The  young  schoolmaster  in  "  Au  Large  "  is  a  peculiarly 
touching  figure,  and  the  Acadian  life  which  the  story  represents 
to  us  seems  to  be  a  study  of  life  on  another  planet.  His  work  is 
rich  in  descriptions,  which,  however,  interpret  and 
novelist^"*  never  overload  the  theme.  He  depicts  the  strange 
architecture  and  aspect  of  the  old  Creole  city ;  and  he 
shows  the  loathsome,  festering  swamp  as  it  never  had  been  shown. 
He  reproduces  with  admirable  skill  the  patois  of  the  people,  and 
envelops  characters  and  scenes  in  a  warm  artistic  atmosphere. 
Human  nature,  and  human  individuality,  are  never  absent  from  his 
stories,  and  he  has  added  a  distinct  page  to  our  literature. 


WRITERS   OF  TO-DAY.  297 

Edward  Eggleston  (183  7-).  The  life  of  frontier  settlements 
is  Dr.  Eggleston's  favorite  theme  :  he  finds  there  material  to  enlist 
his  sympathies  and  stimulate  his  thought.  In  his  youth,  as  a 
preacher  travelling  from  hamlet  to  hamlet,  he  became  familiar 
with  the  character  and  ways  of  the  plain,  uncultivated,  indomita- 
ble people  who  subdue  the  wilderness  :  there  the  artificialities  that 
obscure  and  hamper  the  free  expression  of  human  nature  were 
unknown,  and  it  manifested  itself  freely,  in  its  ugliness  and  in  its 
ineradicable  beauty.     It  was  not  like  the  barbarous  and  romantic 

life  described  by  Bret  Harte  :  for  here  were  women 

1     1  M  1  11  •      .  J  T  The  noveUst 

and  children,  and  domestic  joys  and  sorrows.     It  was   and  Msto- 

a  phase  of  existence  rich  in  sterling  human  interest,   ^^^  o^  the 

which  had   hitherto   lacked  a  portrayal.      Eggleston 

was  the  man  to  supply  the  omission;    he  had  observant   eyes 

and  a  stout   and  tender  heart,  and  the  physical  robustness  of 

the  pioneers  themselves.     His  nature  was  earnest  and  energetic, 

warmed  by  humor,  and  graced  with  an  instinct  for  the  picturesque 

in  character  and  scenery. 

Stories  and  novels,  therefore,  came  readily  from  his  pen :  but 
his  talent  was  better  adapted  for  historical  work  than  for  fiction. 
The  final  effect  of  his  novels  is  powerful :  but  the  progress  of 
events  is  delayed  by  a  too  minute  and  realistic  attention  to  detail. 
He  is  as  exhaustive  as  Balzac,  without  the  redeeming  magic  of 
Balzac's  artistic  atmosphere.  He  does  not  sufficiently  recognize 
the  relative  value  of  component  parts  :  all  alike  are  flooded  with 
a  full  light.  He  has  not  the  power  of  condensing  a  volume  of 
observation  into  a  paragraph ;  of  grouping  and  shading.  He 
wished  to  tell  not  the  truth  only,  but  the  whole  truth ;  and  his 
stories  are  consequently  not  so  much  works  of  art  as  records  of 
fact,  in  a  thin  disguise  of  fiction.  But  even  as  they  are,  they  were 
well  worth  writing.  "  The  Hoosier  Schoolmaster  "  is  a  fine  novel ; 
and  "The  Circuit  Rider,"  "The  End  of  the  World,"  "The  Mys- 
tery of  Metropolisville,"  "  Roxy  "  and  "The  Graysons  "  constitute 
a  substantial  and  comprehensive  picture  of  the  American  frontier. 

Eggleston,  however,  had  already  learned  his  own  powers  and 
the  importance  of  the  field  he  was  working.     He  conceived  the 


298  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

idea  of  writing  the  complete  history  of  "  Life  in  the  Thirteen 
Colonies,"  arranging  it  in  such  divisions  as  "The  Beginning  of  a 
Nation,"  "  The  Planting  of  New  England,"  "  The  Aborigines  and 
the  Colonists,"  "  Indian  War  in  the  Colonies,"  "  Commerce  in  the 
Colonies  "  and  "Social  Life  in  the  Colonies."  For  several  years 
past  he  has  been  laboring  with  all  his  might  on  this  work,  has 
consulted  all  the  sources  of  information  in  this  and  in  foreign 
countries  and  has  incidentally  collected  a  large  library  of  unique 
character  and  great  value.  Nine  years  have  already  been  devoted 
to  this  history,  and  three  more  are  likely  to  pass  ere  it  is  com- 
pleted. Chapters  of  it  have  occasionally  appeared  in  the  "  Cen- 
tury" magazine,  and  some  parts  of  it  have  been  published  in 
volume  form.  It  seems  likely  to  be,  in  its  entirety,  one  of  the 
most  useful  and  readable  of  American  histories. 

E.  W.  Howe  (1854-).  The  position  in  fiction  of  this  writer 
is  not  easily  fixed.  He  is  one  of  our  most  impressive  and  imagina- 
tive story-tellers ;  his  stories  are  realistic  in  texture  and  ideal  in 
conception  :  pathos,  tragedy  and  humor  are  at  his  command,  and 
yet  he  appears  indifferent  to  artistic  construction.  He  does  not 
write  dialect,  —  all  his  characters  speak  ordinary  colloquial  Eng- 
lish, —  and  nevertheless  his  scenes  are  laid  in  unfamiliar  places, 
and  among  primitive  and  uneducated  people.  Howe  is  profoundly 
in  earnest,  and  deals  with  life  in  its  essence,  but  his  writing  is  to 
the  last  degree  simple  and  devoid  of  artifice.  The  reader  may 
see  nothing  in  his  books,  or  everything,  according  to  his  own 
mental  stature  and  emotional  experience.  Their  atmosphere  is 
very  pronounced,  softening  all  details  and  bringing  them  into 
harmony.  The  author  is  original ;  he  does  not  reflect  other 
authors'  books  or  methods.  He  interprets  the  world  in  his  own 
way,  and  his  personal  impress  is  upon  his  every  sentence.  He 
never  varies  the  tone  of  his  straightforward  talk.  His  field  of 
observation  has  not  been  large,  nor  his  reading  extensive,  but  he 
has  thoroughly  digested  what  he  has  seen  and  known,  and  from  the 
elements  he  creates  the  whole.  His  name  is  attached  to  but  four 
novels,  —  "  The  Mystery  of  the  Locks,"  "The  Story  of  a  Country 


WRITERS   OF  TO-DAY.  299 

Town,"  "The  Moonlight  Boy"  and  "A  Man  Story";  but  within 
these  limits  he  has  done  work  which  will  be  remembered  when 
much  that  is  cleverer  and  more  sensational  is  forgotten. 

Richard  Malcolm  Johnston  (183  -)  is  a  Virginian  whose  brief 
sketches  of  Old  Dominion  life  possess  a  rich  humor  and  a  delicate 
perception  of  shades  of  character,  and  are  told  in  a  style  at  once 
simple  and  refined  that  gives  them  an  unquestionable  place  in 
literature. 

Thomas  Nelson  Page  (185  -)  is  also  a  Virginian,  whose 
"  Meh  Lady  "  and  other  short  tales  of  negro  and  country  life  give 
promise  of  good  work  to  come.  H.  C.  Bunner  has  written  some 
scholarly  and  humorous  stories  of  life  in  old  New  York.  T.  A. 
Janvier  has  made  a  special  study  of  Mexico.  James  Lane 
Allen,  whose  home  is  half  way  between  the  Atlantic  and  the 
Pacific,  is  a  general  writer  of  marked  excellence ;  and  Brander 
Matthews  is  a  novelist,  poet,  essayist  and  literary  and  dramatic 
critic  whose  productions  are  never  dull,  and  often  possess  high 
literary  and  artistic  merit. 

Naturalists. 

We  now  leave  the  domain  of  fiction,  and  come  to  those  writers 
who  have  devoted  themselves  to  the  description  of  aspects  of 
nature  and  of  natural  history,  and  to  the  pursuits  that  belong  to 
country  Ufe.  Henry  Thoreau  is  the  type  of  this  class  of  authors, 
the  representatives  of  which  are  not  numerous ;  though  the  de- 
velopment and  settlement  of  the  west  coast  is  likely  to  multiply 
them. 

John  Burroughs  (183  7-)  was  born  on  a  farm  in  New  York 
state,  but  his  naturalistic  proclivities  did  not  develop  at  once. 
"  Almost  my  first  literary  attempts,"  he  says  in  an  autobiographical 
fragment,  "were  moral  reflections,  somewhat  in  the  Johnsonese 
style.  As  a  youth,  I  was  a  philosopher ;  as  a  young  man,  I  was 
an  Emersonian ;  as  a  middle-aged  man,  I  am  a  literary  naturalist ; 


300  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

but  always  have  I  been  an  essayist."  He  is  spoken  of  as  a  follower 
of  Thoreaii,  but  their  differences  are  more  notable  than  their  simi- 
larities. Thoreau's  writings  are  deliberately  personal :  Burroughs's 
are  as  impersonal  as  he  can  make  them.  Thoreau  is  arrogant 
and  creative  :  Burroughs  is  meditative  and  receptive.  Burroughs 
follows  the  method  of  science,  and  the  accuracy  of  his  statements 

can  be  relied  on :  Thoreau  affected  the  poetic  view, 
An  author  ...  ,  ,.       .  ,  ^ 

who  is  a         ^iid  his  work  as  a  naturalist  is  untrustworthy.     Bur- 

genuine^  roughs  presents  himself  to  nature  in  a  neutral  atti- 

tude, not  to  take  notes  of  malice  prepense,  but  from 
spontaneous  impulse.  "  I  come,  gradually,"  he  says,  "  to  have 
a  feeling  that  I  want  to  write  upon  a  given  theme  —  rain,  for 
instance,  or  snow ;  but  what  I  may  have  to  say  upon  it  is  as 
vague  as  the  background  of  one  of  Millet's  pictures.  My  hope 
is  entirely  in  the  feeling  or  attraction  which  draws  my  mind  that 
way ;  the  subject  is  congenial,  it  sticks  to  me  ;  whenever  it  occurs 
to  me,  it  awakens  as  it  were  a  warm  personal  response." 

Besides  his  special  work.  Burroughs  has  written  essays  on 
Thoreau,  Emerson,  Matthew  Arnold  and  Carlyle.  His  books  are 
"Wake  Robin,"  "Winter  Sunshine,"  "Fresh  Fields,"  "Signs  and 
Seasons  "  and  "  Indoor  Studies." 


John  James  Audubon  (i  780-1831)  belongs  to  another  gen- 
eration, but  his  predilections,  and  the  fact  that  he  has  had  no 
rivals  in  his  chosen  line,  render  him  still  a  contemporary.  With 
extraordinary  enthusiasm,  he  carried  out  his  great  enterprise  of 
describing  the  habits  and  executing  colored  portraits  of  the  birds 
of  America.  Most  of  these  portraits  are  of  hfe  size,  and  are 
accurate  in  every  detail.  The  letter-press  of  the  gigantic  volumes 
is  not  only  scientifically  valuable,  but  is  written  in  a  glowing  and 
attractive  style.  He  was  a  man  of  picturesque  and  romantic 
character,  and  the  devotion  with  which  his  wife  assisted  him  in 
the  preparation  of  his  work  is  a  charming  feature  of  their  joint 
history.  William  Hamilton  Gibson  (1848-)  is  an  artist  by 
profession,  and  has  made  exquisite  delineations  of  landscape, 
forests  and  hedge-rows,  in  black  and  white.     At  length  he  began 


WRITERS   OF  TO-DAY.  301 

to  write  on  the  same  subjects.  Both  his  articles  and  his  drawings 
were  contributed  to  the  magazines,  chiefly  to  "  The  Century  "  and 
"  Harper's."  He  illustrated  the  agricultural  works  of  his  friend, 
E.  P.  Roe.  The  author  of  "  Ten  Acres  Enough  "  made  a  wide 
impression  by  the  publication  of  that  useful  and  practical  guide  to 
small  farming ;  and  "  Ik  Marvel,"  in  his  "  My  Farm  at  Edgewood," 
performed  a  similar  service  to  suburban  agriculture.  R.  G.  Pardee 
wrote  "  A  Complete  Manual  for  the  Cultivation  of  Strawberries  "  ; 
and  Charles  Barnard  is  the  author  of  "  The  Strawberry  Garden," 
"  My  Ten  Rod  Farm,"  and  other  books,  in  which  agriculture  and 
humor  are  combined. 


Essayists  and  Historians. 

This  group,  if  it  were  made  complete,  would  be  a  very  wide 
one,  for  a  majority  of  American  authors  find  occasion,  now  and 
then,  to  write  an  essay.  A  large  number,  also,  make  that  their 
chief,  if  not  their  sole  occupation.  The  essay  is  simply  an  article- 
of  any  length  on  any  given  subject,  and  could  be  made  to  include 
newspaper  editorials.  We  shall  confine  ourselves  to  such  essayists 
as  have  become  eminent  in  that  branch  of  writing,  and  who  have 
displayed  true  literary  qualifications.  Contemporary  historians 
are  comparatively  few,  but  there  is  an  increasing  tendency  towards 
historical  research. 

John  Fiske  (184 2-)  is  the  most  substantial  and  enlightened 
figure  in  American  philosophy.  His  culture  is  wide  and  scholarly, 
embracing  the  folk-lore  of  Europe,  American  history,  the  problems 
of  education  and  cognate  matters.  But  he  is  best  known  as  the 
interpreter  of  the  Darwinian  and  Spencerian  philosophies,  which 
he  has  expounded  both  in  books  and  on  the  lecture-platform. 
Nor  is  he  merely  a  paraphrasist  of  what  has  been  already  written : 
on  the  contrary,  he  is  an  able  original  investigator  on  evolutionary 
lines,  and  has  carried  the  analysis,  by  logical  steps,  to  heights  not 
attained  by  Spencer  himself.  According  to  Fiske,  the  principle 
of  evolution  does  not  conflict  with  the  idea  of  God  and  of  a  future 


302  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

spiritual  life,  but  confirms  them.  He  has  made  a  masterly  dis- 
cussion of  these  subjects  in  his  "The  Destiny  of  Man  viewed  in  the 
Light  of  his  Origin  "  and  his  "The  Idea  of  God  as  affected  by 
Modern  Knowledge."  Thus  Fiske  controverts  the  Agnostics,  and 
brings  powerful  support  to  the  affirmative  side  of  the  controversy. 
Some  of  his  other  works  are  "  Myths  and  Myth-Makers,"  "  Out- 
lines of  Cosmic  Philosophy,"  "  Darwinism  and  Other  Essays," 
"Excursions  of  an  Evolutionist,"  "American  Political  Ideas," 
"The  Critical  Period  in  American  History."  Fiske  is  now  at 
work  on  a  "  History  of  the  American  People,"  in  which  the  ques- 
tion of  the  philosophical  principles  with  which  he  has  identified 
himself  will  be  traced  in  the  development  of  civilization  and 
national  character  in  this  country. 

George  William  Curtis  (1824-)  is  a  Rhode  Islander  by  birth, 
but  came  to  New  York  in  his  sixteenth  year,  and  served  for  a 
time  in  a  counting-house.  But  his  temperament  was  literary, 
sentimental  and  progressive,  and  when  the  Brook  Farm  Commu- 
nity was  started,  Curtis  was  among  its  members.  After  three  or 
four  years  of  transcendental  farming,  there  and  elsewhere,  he 
visited  Europe  and  the  East,  remaining  four  years.  The  literary 
fruits  of  this  journey  were  contained  in  two  volumes  of  sentiment, 
description  and  fancy,  entided  "  Nile  Notes  of  a  Howadji "  and 
"The  Howadji  in  Syria."     Returning  about  1850,  he  contributed 

to  the  New  York  "  Tribune  "  a  series  of  letters  from 
hf  u^ratu^re.  Saratoga,  Newport  and  Lake  George,  which  were  later 

collected  under  the  title  of  "Lotus -Eating."  They 
are  very  different  in  character  from  such  letters  as  would  be  written 
nowadays.  The  author  cultivated  his  emotions,  indulged  in  poeti- 
cal reflections,  and  quoted  freely  from  the  poets. 

A  little  later  in  life,  he  fell  into  a  gently  satirical  vein,  and  in 
,  "The  Potiphar  Papers,"  contributed  to  "Putnam's  Magazine,"  he 
sought  to  rival  the  famous  "  Salmagundi "  of  Washington  Irving. 
"  Prue  and  I "  is  a  volume  of  sketches  in  narrative  form ;  and 
"Trumps"  is,  fortunately,  the  author's  only  attempt  at  novel- 
writing. 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY. 


303 


In  1852  began  Curtis's  connection  with  ''Harper's  Magazine." 
He  created  the  department  called  "  The  Editor's  Easy  Chair  "  and 
has  filled  it,  with  one  or  two  brief  intermissions,  ever  since.  These 
essays  treat  of  all  manner  of  topics,  are  rich  in  hterary  allusions, 
easy  and  cultivated  in  style,  and  are  characterized  by  a  sort  of 
refined  good  humor.  Of  late  years,  as  might  be  expected,  he  has 
begun  to  repeat  himself  somewhat,  but  the  department  is  still 
a  popular  one  in  the  magazine.  Meanwhile,  in  1857,  he  began 
"The  Lounger"  papers  in  "Harper's  Weekly,"  and  in  1863 
assumed  the  editorship  of  the  periodical,  and  wrote  editorials  on 
political  and  municipal  topics.  For  several  years  before  and  after 
the  war,  he  was  a  familiar  figure  on  lyceum  platforms.  In  1 884 
he  "  bolted  "  the  RepubUcan  party,  but  instead  of  identifying  him- 
self with  the  Democrats,  established  an  independent  party,  which 
became  known  as  the  "  Mugwumps."  It  will  be  noticed  that  by 
far  the  greater  part  of  Curtis's  writings  remains  in  the  columns  of 
periodicals.  Were  they  to  be  taken  thence  and  republished  in 
book  form,  they  would  fill  some  thirty  good-sized  volumes. 


Charles  Dudley  Warner  (1829-)  was  bom  in  Plainfield,  Mas- 
sachusetts, educated  at  Hamilton  College,  was  for  a  year  a  surveyor 
on  the  Missouri  frontier,  studied  law  in  Philadelphia,  and  prac- 
tised as  a  lawyer  in  Chicago  :  but 
in  i860  he  made  his  final  home 
in  Hartford,  Connecticut,  where 
he  edited  the  "  Hartford  Cou- 
rant."  In  1875  he  made  an  ex- 
tended trip  abroad,  and  during 
the  last  few  years  he  has  made  a 
thorough  exploration  of  the  South- 
ern and  Pacific  States,  and  of  the 
Mississippi  region. 

This  is  the  record  of  a  man 
eager  for  experience,  and  inquisi- 
tive to  see  whatever  sights   the 

world     could     afford     him.         But  Charles    Dudley  Warner. 


304  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

though  his  history  may  indicate  restlessness,  Warner  himself,  so 
far  as  his  character  and  temperament  may  be  discerned  in  his 

books,  is  one  of  the  most  restful  and  leisurely  of  Ameri- 
AmScan.       ^^^  authors.     He   sustains  the  impact  of  the  world 

with  a  humorous  smile ;  he  sees  everything,  but  sees 
it  in  an  entertaining  light;  he  is  tranquil  and  observant  where 
another  would  be  bewildered  and  fractious.  Whether  digging 
and  planting  in  his  garden,  or  contemplating  the  majesty  of  the 
Sphinx  at  Memphis,  he  is  always  true  to  himself — an  Ameri- 
can of  Americans,  and  therefore  free  from  prejudices  and  pro- 
vincialisms, but  redolent  of  the  native  flavor,  unterrified  by 
conventions  and  pretences,  yet  reverent  always  in  the  presence 
of  what  deserves  reverence  ;  testing  all  things  with  the  talisman  of 
simple  common-sense,  which  counteracts  false  enchantments  and 
restores  objects  to  their  real  shapes.  To  look  upon  the  world  inde- 
pendently and,  as  it  were,  primitively,  and  to  report  the  unhack- 
neyed and  untraditional  truth  about  it,  is  a  rare  and  precious 
faculty ;  it  is  of  the  essence  of  the  best  type  of  American  humor, 
which  is  Warner's.  He  makes  himself  impersonal  by  identifying 
himself  with  his  own  reader ;  it  is  as  if  the  reader  were  writing  the 
book,  or  the  writer  reading  it.  La  Rochefoucauld  asserts  that 
there  is  something  not  unpleasing  to  us  in  the  misfortunes  of  our 
best  friends ;  but  Warner  enjoys  his  own  mishaps  quite  as  much 
as  could  the  most  impartial  spectator.  The  aesthetic  sense  is  also 
full-grown  in  him ;  he  never  misses  a  point  of  beauty,  and  he  dis- 
criminates infallibly  between  the  pinchbeck  and  the  genuine.  He 
is  a  first-rate  literary  critic  —  one  who  can  not  only  dissect,  but 
create ;  and  the  earnest  and  sensible  thought  he  has  bestowed 
upon  social  and  pohtical  questions  renders  his  judgments  there- 
upon weighty  and  illuminating.  In  his  humorous  and  meditative 
essays,  he  says  all  the  good  things  that  one  wishes  one  had  said 
one's  self;  in  his  narratives  of  travel,  he  tells  us  precisely  the  things 
we  wanted  to  know,  which  no  one  else  had  told ;  in  his  critical 
vein,  he  so  lucidly  reveals  the  structure  and  character  of  the  thing 
criticised  that  we  are  ready  to  credit  our  own  insight,  rather  than 
his,  with  the  verdict. 


WRITERS   OF  TO-DAY.  305 

"My  Summer  in  a  Garden,"  the  first  book  that  brought  him 

into  notice,  is  a  collection  of  papers  contributed  to  the  "  Hartford 

Courant."     Quiet,  irresistible  fun  is  the  ruling  trait  of  the  volume  : 

no  one  who  knows  what  a  garden  and   human  nature  are,  can 

withstand   the    excruciating  veracity  of  its  comedy. 

His  books. 
"  Back- Log   Studies "  is  a  series  of  meditations   on 

all  subjects,  with  graver  passages  interspersed  among  the  smiling 
ones  :  for  mere  literary  charm  and  excellence  it  has  never  been 
surpassed  by  the  author,  and  scarcely  by  any  one  else.  "  In  the 
Wilderness  "  takes  us  to  the  Adirondacks,  and  portrays  the  fascina- 
tion of  the  woods,  the  humors  of  camping-out,  the  terrors  of  the 
black  bear  and  the  excitement  of  the  deer-hunt.  "  My  Winter  on 
the  Nile  "  gives  a  truer  picture  of  travel  and  scenery  in  Egypt  than 
has  been  painted  elsewhere  ;  "  In  the  Levant "  carries  on  the  story, 
taking  the  charm  along  with  it ;  "Saunterings,"  "Baddeck,  and  that 
Sort  of  Thing  "  and  "  Roundabout  Journeys,"  are  in  a  similar  vein. 
"  Being  a  Boy  "  is  a  juvenile  classic,  as  fascinating  to  fathers  as  to 
sons.  "Their  Pilgrimage  "  is  a  description  of  American  summer- 
resorts,  with  a  delightful  love-story  interwoven  in  it ;  and  he  has 
recently  published  a  book  on  California  which  is  likely  to  stimu- 
late all  well-disposed  persons  to  emigrate  thither.  His  biographies 
of  Captain  John  Smith,  and  of  Washington  Irving,  are  eminently 
just  and  enlightening ;  and  he  has,  during  the  last  few  years, 
actually  succeeded  in  making  readable  the  "  humorous  depart- 
ment "  of  one  of  our  leading  magazines.  Surely  such  a  man  as 
this  deserves  the  gratitude  of  his  countrymen. 

Richard  Grant  White  (1821-1885)  was  born  and  educated  in 
New  York,  began  life  as  a  lawyer  there,  but  soon  devoted  himself 
to  musical,  philological  and  Shakespearian  criticism,  and  to  litera- 
ture in  general.  He  was  a  man  of  penetrating  and  independent 
intellect,  of  imperturbable  and  somewhat  sarcastic  humor,  pug- 
nacious but  good-tempered  in  disposition,  strong  in  common-sense, 
exquisitely  alive  to  sensuous  beauty  and  deeply  versed  in  books 
and  men.  His  "  Words  and  their  Uses,"  an  admirable  and 
unhackneyed  guide  to  sound  prose  composition,  was  published  in 


306  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

1870;  his  "Every  Day  English,"  about  ten  years  later.  During 
this  period   he   also  wrote    monthly  papers   for  "  The   Galaxy  " 

magazine,  and  articles,  sometimes  critical,  sometimes 
uteratiS"^    controversial.      In  the  latter,  he  was  especially  feU- 

citous ;  few  men  were  better  able  to  annihilate  an 
opponent,  while  maintaining  thorough  good-humor.  A  collec- 
tion of  some  of  these  fugitive  papers  of  his  would  make  a 
delightful  volume.  He  edited  two  editions  of  Shakespeare,  with 
an  "  Essay  on  the  Authorship  of  the  Three  Parts  of  Henry 
VI.,"  a  treatise  on  "Memoirs  of  WilHam  Shakespeare,"  and 
"  Studies  in  Shakespeare,"  which  was  his  last  production  previous 
to  his  death.  All  these  books  display  clear  judgment  and  sound 
scholarship,  and  served  to  clear  the  air  of  much  accumulated  fog 
and  nonsense.  In  1876-7  White  made  a  trip  to  England,  which 
his  previous  training  had  qualified  him  to  enjoy  to  the  utmost. 
"  England  Within  and  Without "  was  the  result  of  this  visit,  and 
its  verdict  upon  the  mother  country  was  a  very  cordial  and 
friendly  one.  A  little  later  he  published  a  novel,  relating  the 
experiences  of  an  American  in  England,  designed  to  show  the 
comical  ignorance  of  this  country  obtaining  amongst  cultivated 
English  people.  White's  musical  criticisms  have  not  been  rescued 
from  the  periodicals  in  which  they  originally  appeared ;  yet  they 
are  the  best  that  have  been  written  in  this  country.  White  was 
several  inches  over  six  feet  in  height,  of  spare,  athletic  figure,  with 
marked  aquiline  features  and  a  peculiarly  suave  and  courteous 
manner.  He  was  a  charming  companion,  a  hearty  friend  and  a 
good  enemy. 

James  Parton  (182 2-),  though  by  birth  an  Enghshman,  has 
lived  in  this  country  since  his  sixth  year.  He  has  written  copiously 
and  intelligently  on  biographical,  historical  and  social  topics. 
His  essays  on  Smoking  and  Drinking,  originally  published  in  the 
"Atlantic  Monthly,"  attracted  much  attention  and  comment. 
He  is  a  man  of  broad  views,  though  somewhat  opinionated.  He 
married  the  sister  of  N.  P.  Willis,  known  to  readers  as  "  Fanny 
Fern."     She  was  eleven  years  his  senior,  and  she  died  in  1872. 


WRITERS   OF  TO-DAY.  307 

Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson  (1823-)  was  an  abolitionist, 
and  a  colonel  of  negro  troops  in  the  war.  He  is  an  accomplished 
literary  man^  master  of  an  urbane  and  graceful  style,  and  an 
advocate  of  wholesome  and  sensible  regimen  of  life.  He  is  the 
author  of  many  volumes  of  biography,  historical  memoranda, 
criticism  and  narrative,  and  of  one  or  two  works  of  fiction  ;  but  he 
has  done  nothing  commensurate  with  his  reputation.  Of  his 
books  we  may  name  "  Army  Life  in  a  Black  Regiment,"  "  Oldport 
Days,"  "  Outdoor  Papers,"  "  Atlantic  Essays,"  "  Life  of  Margaret 
Fuller,"  "Young  Folks'  History  of  the  United  States"  and  "  Mal- 
bone,  an  Oldport  Romance."  Charles  Godfrey  Leland  (1824-), 
though  born  in  Philadelphia,  seems  to  have  had  a  spice  of  the 
gypsy  in  his  composition ;  he  has  seldom  lived  more  than  four 
years  continuously  in  the  same  place,  and  some  of  his  most  val- 
uable books  treat  of  the  gypsy  race  and  language. 
He  has  probably  read  more  books  than  any  other  -^  author 
man  living.  He  has  an  insatiable  appetite  for  humor  gypsy  vein, 
and  "jokes,"  and  his  "Hans  Breitmann's  Ballads" 
had  a  vast  popularity.  He  has  travelled  over  the  greater  part 
of  the  world,  and  has  lived  many  years  in  Europe.  He  has 
been  editor,  author  and  publisher  by  turns.  He  has  taken  a 
strong  practical  interest  in  the  industrial  education  of  the  young. 
At  the  age  of  twenty- four  he  fought  at  the  barricades  of  Paris  in 
the  Revolution :  and  during  our  civil  war,  fifteen  years  later,  he 
was  the  first  to  advocate  the  emancipation  of  the  slaves.  He  has 
translated  Heine,  the  German  poet  and  critic,  and  is  the  author 
of  many  books  on  philology  and  general  literature.  He  is  the 
founder  of  the  "  Home  Arts  Club  "  in  London,  and  of  the  "  Rab- 
elais Club."  He  is  at  present  residing  in  London,  still  engaged  in 
literary  work. 

John  Hay  (1839-)  was  born  in  Indiana,  and  was  admitted  to 
the  Illinois  bar  in  1861.  But  on  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  he 
went  to  Washington,  and  received  the  appointment  of  private 
secretary  to  Abraham  Lincoln.  The  intimate  relations  thus  estab- 
lished  between  the  young  man  and   the^  President  enabled   the 


308  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

former,  twenty  years  later,  to  command  the  material  for  the  his- 
tory which,  in  conjunction  with  John  G.  Nicolay,  he  published  in 
1890. 

During  Andrew  Johnson's  administration,  Hay  —  who  held  the 
rank  of  colonel  in  the  Volunteers  —  was  sent  to  Spain  to  fill  a 
diplomatic  post ;  and  his  impressions  of  that  country  were  pub- 
lished on  his  return  under  the  title  of  "  Castilian  Days."  The  book 
is  gracefully  written,  with  many  touches  of  humor  and  fancy,  and 
shows  a  warm  and  poetic  appreciation  of  the  romance  and  beauty 
of  the  home  of  the  Hidalgos.  During  his  youth.  Colonel  Hay 
had  become  famihar  with  certain  features  of  fron- 
Eariy  poems  ^-jgj.  jjfg  ^ygg^-  ^f  ^^  Mississippi,  and,  at  about  the 
of  frontier         .  ,  .  .         ,  .      ^  ^ 

life.  time   that  Bret    Harte  was  writmg   his   first    famous 

stories  and  poems,  Hay  published  some  rhymes, 
somewhat  in  Harte 's  manner,  that  were  afterwards  collected  in  a 
volume  called  "  Pike  County  Ballads."  They  were  written  in  the 
rude  idioms  of  the  frontier,  were  original  and  audacious  in  tone, 
but  strong  and  true  in  sentiment.  The  best  known  among  them 
are  "  Litde  Breeches  "  and  "Jim  Bludso."  For  a  time,  it  seemed 
as  if  Harte  might  find  a  formidable  rival  in  John  Hay.  But  the 
latter  married  soon  after ;  and  being  thereby  absolved  from  further 
dependence  on  his  pen,  he  practically  retired  from  literature  for 
several  years,  nor  has  he  ever  again  taken  up  the  vein  that  he  had 
opened  so  vigorously  and  promisingly. 

About  1885,  however,  it  became  known  that  Hay  and  Nicolay 
were  engaged  upon  an  elaborate  biography  of  Lincoln,  involving 
a  history  of  the  whole  period  covered  by  his  active  life. 
Lincom  '^^^  publication  of  this  work  was  begun  in  the  "  Cen- 

tury "  magazine,  and  chapters  from  it  were  pubhshed 
continuously  for  two  years.  It  is  a  thorough-going  and  impor- 
tant work,  which,  in  its  final  form,  fills  ten  volumes.  It  is  espe- 
cially rich  in  authentic  documents,  and  it  portrays  the  President 
in  minutely  lifelike  and  impressive  colors.  It  is  still  too  soon 
to  decide  whether  the  work  possesses  impartiality  and  breadth 
of  view  sufficient  to  place  it  above  all  necessity  for  future  cor- 
rection or  modification.  But  it  is,  at  least,  a  rich  mine  of  mate- 
rial for  subsequent  investigation  of  the  subject. 


WRITERS   OF  TO-DAY.  309 

John  Bach  McMaster  (185  2-)  has  contributed  a  biography 
of  FrankHn  to  the  *'  American  Men  of  Letters  "  series,  edited  by 
Charles  Dudley  Warner.  The  arrangement  of  the  leading  facts 
of  Franklin's  career  is  clear  and  accurate,  and  will  be  useful  to 
those  who  cannot  spare  time  to  read  the  great  work  of  the  same 
subject  by  John  Bigelow.  Professor  McMaster's  opinions  about 
Franklin  are,  perhaps,  less  valuable  :  his  own  mind  was  scarcely 
mature  enough  to  comprehend  Franklin's  nature  and  genius. 
The  style  of  the  book  is  modelled  somewhat  after  Macaulay's, 
but  is  less  sonorous  and  balanced.  McMaster  is  also  the  author 
of  a  "  History  of  the  People  of  the  United  States,"  beginning  with 
the  period  following  the  Revolutionary  War.  It  is  both  lively  and 
minute,  and  adopts  the  method  of  the  English  historian.  Green, 
who  treats  of  the  develol)ment  and  character  of  the  people  them- 
selves, rather  than  of  the  exploits  of  their  nominal  leaders.  Mc- 
Master is  not  a  hero-worshipper,  and  his  estimate  of  men  who 
have  been  called  great  is  not  likely  to  err  on  the  side  of  eulogy. 

Samuel  Adams  Drake  (1833-)  is  the  author  of  several  useful 
contributions  towards  the  history  of  New  England,  of  which  the 
volume  on  ^'  The  Making  of  New  England  "  may  be  taken  as  a 
fair  type.  It  is  designed  to  be  a  medium  between  the  "  skeleton  " 
histories  of  our  common  schools,  and  the  elaborate  works  required 
by  scholars.  It  imparts  a  consistent  human  interest  to  the  events 
it  describes,  and  thus  assists  the  memory  in  retaining  them. 
The  narrative,  instead  of  groping  blindly  along  in  chronological 
sequence,  reviews  as  it  were  from  a  height  the  vicissitudes  of  dis- 
coverer, pioneer  and  pilgrim,  and  shows  the  relative  bearing  of 
occurrences.  The  author  fears  not  to  intimate  that  Providence 
controls  history.  The  homely,  heroic  story  of  the  Puritans  is 
brought  home  to  the  reader,  and  the  Indian  episodes  are  treated 
with  justness,  and  without  mawkish  sentiment.  Such  books  ensure 
their  writer  an  honorable  place  in  literature. 

Ulysses  S.  Grant  (1822-1885).  After  retiring  from  the  Presi- 
dency, General  Grant  made  a  tour  of  the  world,  and  then  em- 


310  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

barked  in  the  banking  business  in  New  York.  By  the  dishonesty 
of  his  partners,  he  was  involved  in  financial  troubles  which  lost 
him  his  fortune.  At  the  same  time,  he  was  afflicted  with  an 
incurable  disease.  In  order  to  leave  his  family  with  means  of 
support.  General  Grant  undertook  to  write  the  narrative  of  his 
part  in  the  Civil  War.  He  carried  out  his  purpose  with  the  same 
grim  pertinacity  and  courage  that  had  characterized  him  in  the 
conduct  of  his  campaigns;  holding  death  in  check  by  force  of 
will  until  his  work  was  finished.  But  these  "  Personal  Recollec- 
tions "  do  not  need  extraneous  circumstances  to  give  them  value. 
The  narrative  is  direct,  clear  and  of  admirable  temper ;  the  writer's 
own  share  in  the  events  is  told  with  modesty  and  scrupulous  adhe- 
rence to  truth ;  and  the  services  of  his  comrades-in-arms,  and 
of  his  opponents;  are  set  down  justly  and  generously.  As  the 
story  of  one  of  the  important  conflicts  of  the  world,  told  at  first 
hand  by  one  of  the  chief  actors  in  it,  this  history  is  invaluable ; 
but  the  simple,  straightforward  naturalness  of  the  style  in  which 
it  is  written  adds  greatly  to  its  worth.  Entirely  plain  and  unpre- 
tentious, it  is  nevertheless  strong  and  dignified,  and  always  ade- 
quate to  the  demands  it  has  to  meet.  It  is  what  the  best  style 
should  be  —  the  reflection  of  the  character  of  the  man  who  writes 
it.  Without  the  refinements  and  polish  of  literary  culture,  it 
nevertheless  belongs  to  literature,  and  illustrates  how  broadly 
catholic  a  thing  good  literature  is. 

Jefferson  Davis  (1808- 1890),  the  Ex-President  of  the  Confed- 
eracy, was  a  man  of  culture  and  scholarship,  an  eloquent  speaker 
and  a  good  writer.  The  leading  part  he  played  in  the  secession 
movement,  and  the  inner  knowledge  he  possessed  of  the  Southern 
temper,  traits  and  traditions,  and  of  the  causes  which  led  to  the 
Civil  War,  render  important  his  "  Short  History  of  the  Confederate 
States  of  America."  The  book  is  written  with  candor  and  impar- 
tiality ;  documentary  data  for  statements  are  always  forthcoming, 
and  the  reader  is  made  to  recognize  the  integrity  and  devotion 
of  the  Southern  leaders,  and  the  heroism  of  her  people.  More 
recently  has  appeared  "Jefferson  Davis:  A  Memoir,"  the  mate- 


WRITERS   OF  TO-DAY.  311 

rials  for  which  had  been  collected  by  Mr.  Davis  previous  to  his 
death,  when  they  were  edited  and  published  by  his  widow.  The 
book  is  an  interesting  and  vivid  account  of  a  remarkable  character 
and  career,  and  covers  the  most  stirring  periods  of  our  national 
history. 

T.J.  Chapman  has  published  a  short  narrative  of  "  The  French 
in  the  Alleghany  Valley,"  beginning  in  1748,  and  coming  down  to 
1784.  It  is  well  constructed  and  written,  and  may  usefully  be 
read  in  connection  with  Parkman's  histories.  Charles  F.  Rich- 
ardson has  published,  in  two  volumes,  a  scholarly  and  comprehen- 
sive work  on  "American  Literature,"  from  its  beginning  to  the 
present  day :  and  Moses  Coit  Tyler*s  "  History  of  American 
Literature,"  though  rather  inclined  to  take  a  rose-colored  view  of 
our  productions,  is  nevertheless  a  work  of  soHd  merit  so  far  as  it 
has  yet  gone. 

Humorists. 

To  label  a  writer  a  "  humorist "  is  not,  in  this  country  and  in 
our  day,  a  satisfactory  classification  of  him.  The  name  humorist 
no  longer  bears  the  old  English  sense,  but  is  applied  to  mere 
jesters  and  buffoons  as  well  as  to  those  who  properly  merit  the 
title.  Holmes  and  Lowell  are  humorists,  not  to  speak  of  Warner, 
Harte,  Hay  and  others  of  their  rank.  Yet  to  group  them  under 
the  heading  of  American  humorists  would  be  misleading ;  they 
have  wit,  their  productions  are  lightened  by  humor ;  but  they  do 
not  live  and  write  for  the  sole  purpose  of  being  funny.  Very  rarely 
there  comes  a  man  whose  innate  mental  attitude  or  genius  is  so 
odd  and  exceptional,  so  out  of  keeping  with  the  average  and  con- 
ventional point  of  view,  that  everything  he  thinks  or  says  is  irre- 
sistibly comical.  He  perceives  relations  that  others  have  not 
detected  ;  he  brings  near  and  remote  together  in  a  logical  yet 
grotesque  union ;  and  when,  in  addition  to  these  qualities  and 
faculties,  he  is  endowed  with  the  literary  gift,  he  is  the  very  man 
we  are  looking  for.  Behind  him  come  trooping  a  thousand  incom- 
petent or  vulgar  imitators,  by  whose  inferiority  we  may  measure 
his  excellence,  and  who  are  as  evanescent  as  he  is  enduring. 


312  AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 

<<Artemus  Ward*'  (1834-1867),  as  Charles  F.  Browne  was 
known  to  the  public,  was  a  man  whose  mind  was  as  quaintly  put 
together  as  were  those  of  Shakespeare's  clowns.  He  was  an  invol- 
untary —  though  by  no  means  an  unconscious  —  fun-maker  :  his. 
conceits  were  in  his  marrow,  and  were  not  more  the  result  of 
intellectual  effort  than  his  breathing  was.  To  his  eye,  the  universe 
was  not  a  universe,  but  a  great  incoherency.  Wherever  he  looked, 
he  beheld  a  manifest  absurdity.  Standards  of  behavior,  habits  of 
thought,  modes  of  life,  appeared  to  him  inverted,  arbitrary,  illu- 
sive :  he  was  impelled  to  reverse  all  precedent  and 
perverse  order,  and  to  make  the  planet  roll  from  east  to 
west.  Had  his  mind  stopped  here,  he  would  simply 
have  been  insane ;  but,  in  fact,  he  was  a  duplex  phenomenon ; 
few  men  had  so  clear  a  perception  as  he  himself  had  of  his 
own  perversity.  Hence  he  was  a  born  humorist,  and  —  if  such 
a  thing  be  predicable  of  fun-making  —  a  born  genius.  On  what 
may  be  called  his  sane  side,  he  was  possessed  of  exceptional 
good  sense,  insight  and  integrity  ;  his  nature  was  eminently  catholic 
and  sympathetic,  so  that  what  he  felt  was  felt  by  the  mass  of  his 
fellow-creatures.  Brown  never  ridiculed  anything  that  all  the 
world  was  not  ready  to  join  him  in  ridiculing  :  an  intellect  more 
broadly  representative  than  his  was  not  to  be  found.  He  made 
his  unreason  serve  his  reason,  and  his  nonsense  became  the  most 
effective  weapon  of  his  sense.  He  lifted  exaggeration  into  a  science, 
and  made  it  seem  more  lifelike  than  accuracy  itself.  He  is  a  pro- 
foundly satisfying  writer ;  his  absurdities  so  exactly  hit  one's  ideal 
of  the  absurd,  that  one  rejoices  in  them  as  in  a  personal  acqui- 
sition. Not  the  less  is  he  always  unexpected  and  incalculable  : 
it  is  at  the  moment  when  you  are  least  on  your  guard  that  he 
plants  his  most  telling  blows,  yet  there  is  apt  to  be  a  preposterous 
plausibihty  in  his  quips.  Lecturing,  once,  in  a  place  of  entertain- 
ment in  London  known  as  the  "Egyptian  Hall"  —  "When  the 
Egyptians  built  this  hall,"  he  began,  and  was  interrupted,  of 
course,  by  a  roar  of  laughter.  It  was  a  natural  thing  to  say ;  but 
was  too  natural  for  any  one  but  he  to  have  thought  of  saying  it. 

Taking  up  one  of  his  books  now,  you  will  be  surprised  to  find 


WRITERS   OF  TO-DAY.  313 

how  many  of  his  jokes  and  sayings  have  been  adopted  by  the 

nation,  and  have  become  incorporate  in  the  language.     It  was  he 

who  said  that  an  occasional  joke  improved  a  comic 

paper  :  that,  when  he  drank,  he  never  allowed  busi-   ^^^^  *°  ^^ 

.         r  •  ,     •  1         .  11,  ,  common 

ness  to  mterfere  with  it;    that  it  would   have   been  stock. 

ten  dollars  in  a  certain  distinguished  statesman's 
pocket  if  he  had  never  been  born ;  that,  "  they  said  I  had  a 
future  before  me ;  up  to  that  time  I  had  an  idea  it  was  behind 
me";  that,  "I  really  don't  care  for  money;  I  only  travel  round 
to  show  my  clothes."  His  eccentric  spelling  had  a  kind  of  humor- 
ous felicity  in  it,  and  seemed  to  get  more  out  of  a  word  than 
could  be  extracted  by  ordinary  orthography.  In  the  mouth  of 
his  imaginary  showman  it  was  also,  oftentimes,  a  revelation  of 
character.  This  showman  —  Artemus  —  by  the  way,  is  one  of  the 
solidest  figures  in  the  gallery  of  American  fiction.  To  the  pub- 
lic, for  whom  Browne  wrote,  he  is  still  a  much  more  real  person 
than  is  Charles  Farrar  Browne  himself.  Certainly  there  could  not 
be  a  contrast  greater  than  that  between  the  blatant,  vulgar,  impu- 
dent old  buffoon  of  the  book,  and  the  quiet,  delicate,  pensive, 
sensitive-looking  young  gentleman  of  the  lecture-platform.  And 
yet,  before  he  had  been  speaking  five  minutes,  you  could  under- 
stand how  and  why  the  creator  of  "  Artemus  "  was  his  creator. 

"  Artemus  Ward,  His  Book,"  "  Artemus  Ward,  His  Travels " 
and  "  Artemus  Ward  in  London,"  are  the  titles  of  Browne's  vol- 
umes. Several  of  his  lectures  —  which  were  got  up  as  a  burlesque 
and  satire  of  the  pretentious  Lyceum  lectures  of  thirty  years  ago  — 
have  never  been  pubHshed,  and  are  preserved  only  in  the  memo- 
ries of  his  hearers.  He  spent  the  last  year  of  his  life  in  London, 
where  he  made  many  hearty  friends ;  and  he  died  of  consumption 
in  Southampton,  with  a  jest  on  his  lips.  "  It  seems  the  fashion," 
he  whispered  to  a  friend  at  his  bedside,  "  for  every  one  to  present 
the  Prince  of  Wales  with  something.  I  think  I  shall  leave  him  my 
panorama." 

**Mark  Twain'*  (Samuel  L.  Clemens)  (1835-)  was  born  in 
Missouri,  and  apprenticed  to  a  printer.      He  made  a  two-years' 


314 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Mark  Twain. 


visit  to  the  East  in  185 1,  and  on  his  return  served  as  a  pilot  on  a 
Mississippi  steamboat.      At  the  age  of  twenty  he  was  acting  as 

reporter  on  a  Nevada  newspaper, 
and  later  he  filled  a  similar  posi- 
tion in  San  Francisco.  He  spent 
six  months,  in  the  interests  of  his 
paper,  at  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and 
after  coming  back  made  a  prosper- 
ous lecturing- tour.  In  1867  he  pub- 
^^^x     ,./' T^iapi^K.  lished,  in  New  York,  his  "Jumping 

/'  /^    J  '      "         Frog "  and  other  sketches,  and  the 

same  year  he  joined  a  party  of  tour- 
ists in  a  voyage  round  the  world, 
which  he  described  in  "  The  Inno- 
cents Abroad."  "  Roughing  It  " 
was  his  next  book,  depicting  wild 
Western  life.  "  Tom  Sawyer  "  is  the 
story  of  a  boy's  life  ;  "  Life  on  the  Mississippi  "  portrays  his  expe- 
riences as  a  pilot ;  "  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper  "  is  a  tale  of  early 
EngHsh  history;  "A  Tramp  Abroad"  is  the  narrative  of  his 
second  visit  to  Europe.  All  his  books  have  had  an  immense  and 
continuous  popularity. 

Mark  Twain  has  keener  eyes,  a  more  retentive  memory  and  a 
finer  brain  than  occur  once  in  ten  thousand  times ;  and  he  has, 
in  addition,  a  queer,  original  humor  and  a  remarkable  literary 
faculty.  If  all  the  fun  were  left  out  of  his  books  of  travel,  what 
remained  would  suffice  to  give  him  a  high  reputation  as  a 
writer.  He  sees  things  with  wonderful  clearness  and 
correctness,  and  his  descriptions  are  graphic,  com- 
prehensive and  often  poetically  eloquent.  But  these 
orthodox  merits  inevitably  fall  into  the  background 
when  the  humorous  fit  seizes  him.  Some  seed  of 
comedy  alights  on  his  mind,  and  immediately  begins  to  grow  and 
fructify.  There  is  no  sudden  explosion,  or  abrupt  shock,  nor  is 
there  a  continuous  fusillade,  as  in  Browne's  case ;  but  the  jest 
expands,  gains  impetus  and  color,  and  presently  takes  precedence 


A  humorist 
who  is  a 
literary 
artist. 


WRITERS   OF   TO-DAY.  3U 

of  all  else.  Then  we  are  carried  onwards,  and  for  a  time  all  is 
quiet  and  regular;  but, 'a  page  or  a  paragraph  ahead,  another 
seizure  is  awaiting  us.  Twain's  jokes  are  captured  by  him  in  the 
rough  and  primitive  state,  and  swifUy  and  rapidly  transformed  into 
works  of  art ;  nothing  is  omitted  that  can  give  them  full  effect, 
nor,  on  the  other  hand,  is  there  ever  a  word  or  a  touch  too  much. 
Twain,  in  fact,  whether  in  jest  or  in  earnest,  is  always  and  instinc- 
tively an  artist ;  it  is  a  necessity  of  his  nature  to  perfect  his  work.  In 
jest  and  in  earnest  alike  he  preserves  the  same  serious  and  candid 
manner :  in  the  telling  of  his  most  excruciating  witticisms  there 
is  apt  to  be  a  touch  of  sadness,  of  pathos,  of  anxiety.  Laughter 
seems  to  be  a  thing  unknown  to  him ;  he  looks  you  solemnly 
and  innocently  in  the  eye,  and  prattles  with  childish  naivete. 
His  effects- are  cumulative ;  they  linger  in  the  mind  not  as  sayings, 
or  "points,"  but  as  pictures  and  situations.  His  genius  thinks 
best  when  he  is  in  movement :  his  best  books  are  books  of  travel 
or  adventure  :  indeed,  he  has  written  little  outside  of  these  cate- 
gories. He  seldom  sits  down  to  talk :  he  likes  to  lead  the  reader 
on  from  one  scene  to  another,  and  the  changing  prospect  stimu- 
lates his  brain  to  fresh  evolutions.  His  portrayals  of  character 
are  second  only  to  his  sketches  of  scenery.  When  he  chooses  to 
be  simply  truthful,  the  photographic  plate  itself  cannot  outdo  him ; 
nay,  he  surpasses  it,  by  giving  the  essential  and  shaping  features, 
and  leaving  out  the  rest.  There  seems  to  be  nothing  that  he 
cannot  do,  and  do  well :  very  seldom  does  he  repeat  himself;  on 
the  contrary,  he  is  apt  to  invade  totally  new  fields  of  literary 
enterprise,  and  with  such  success  that  one  wonders  whether  this 
be  not  his  truest  vein,  after  all.  He  is  never  in  a  hurry,  and 
though  the  amount  of  his  production  is  not  small,  it  contains 
internal  evidence  that  he  never  writes  without  having  something 
to  say.  Mark  Twain's  home  is  in  Hartford,  Connecticut,  but  he 
passes  his  summers  in  Elmira,  New  York. 

The  number  of  "  humorists  "  who  have  sprung  into  existence 
since  Artemus  Ward  became  famous,  is  past  computation.  C.  H. 
Webb  ("John  Paul")  was  a  contemporary  of  Artemus's :  he  was 


316  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

the  founder  of  the  "  CaHfornian,"  to  which  Mark  Twain  and  Bret 
Harte  were  early  contributors  ;  and  he  was  the  pubUsher  of  Twain's 
"  Jumping  Frog  "  volume.  His  humor  is  of  a  high  order  :  it  has 
been  chiefly  in  the  form  of  contributions  to  the  daily  press. 
Eugene  Field  has  for  ten  or  twelve  years  written  a  daily  column 
of  satire,  in  a  vein  of  his  own  discovery,  and  which  he  monopolizes, 
in  the  Chicago  "  Daily  News  "  ;  but  he  is  also  a  very  charming 
poet,  and  has  written  a  number  of  admirable  children's  stories 
and  poems.  "  A  Little  Book  of  Western  Verse  "  and  "  A  Little 
Book  of  Profitable  Tales  "  are  the  titles  of  two  of  his  volumes. 
**Bill  Nye**  (Edward  W.  Nye)  is  one  of  the  most  popular  comic 
writers.  <*Josh  Billings**  (H.  W.  Shaw)  is  a  homely  philoso- 
pher who  deals  in  shrewd  aphorisms  and  bad  spelling.  **Bob 
Burdette**  is  a  teller  of  comic  anecdotes.  B.  P.  Shillaber 
("  Mrs.  Partington  ")  is  a  sort  of  American  elaborator  of  Sheridan's 
"  Mrs.  Malaprop  " ;  and  James  Whitcomb  Riley  is  the  author 
of  both  humorous  dialect  and  pathetic  poems.  The  daily  and 
weekly  newspapers  are  crowded  with  the  paragraphs  of  nameless 
wits  and  wittols  ;  and  no  magazine  is  complete  without  its  "  humor- 
ous department "  in  the  rear,  or  intertwined  with  its  advertisements. 
Americans  are  a  hard-working  people,  and  they  like  to  laugh,  and 
richly  reward  those  who  can  make  them  do  so.  But  when  the 
era  arrives  of  more  contentment  and  less  competition,  of  less 
"  life  "  and  more  living,  the  humorists  will  disappear,  with  the 
need  for  them. 


INDEX. 


Adams,  John,  29. 
Adams,  John  Quincy,  79. 
Adams,  Samuel,  35. 
Alcott,  Amos  Bronson,  144. 
Alcott,  Louisa  M.,  293. 
Aldrich,  Thomas  Bailey,  276. 
Allen,  James  Lane,  299. 
Allston,  Washington,  n6. 
Alsop,  George,  3. 
Ames,  Fisher,  34. 
Audubon,  John  James,  300. 

Baldwin,  Joseph  G.,  241. 

Bancroft,  George,  87. 

Bancroft,  Hubert  Howe,  88. 

Barlow,  Joel,  26. 

Barnard,  Charles,  301. 

Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  155. 

Bishop,  W.  H.,  291. 

Blair,  James,  11. 

Boker,  George  H.,  242. 

Boyesen,  H.  H.,  293. 

Bradford,  William,  4. 

Bradstreet,  Anne,  12. 

Brown,  Charles  Brockden,  23. 

Browne,  Charles  F.,  (Artemas  Ward), 

312. 
Bryant,  William  Cullen,  93. 
Banner,  H.  C,  299. 
Burdette,  Bob,  316. 
Burnett,  F.  H.,  293. 
Burroughs,  John,  299. 
Bushnell,  Horace,  155. 

Cable,  George  W.,  295. 
Calhoun,  John  C,  71. 
Cary,  Alice,  282. 
Cary,  Phoebe,  282. 
Channing,  William  Ellery,  153. 


Chapman,  T.  J.,  311. 

Choate,  Rufus,  78^ 

Church,  Benjamin,  7, 

Clay,  Henry,  74. 

Clemens,  Samuel  L.,  (Mark  Twain),  313. 

Cooke,  John  Esten.  239. 

Cooper,  James  Fenimore,  46. 

Cotton,  John,  9. 

Coxe,  Daniel,  3. 

Curtis,  George  William,  302. 

Dana.  R.  H..  116. 
Dana,  R.  H.,  Jr.,  209. 
Davis,  Jeft'erson,  79,  310. 
Deming,  Philander,  285. 
Denton,  Daniel,  3, 
Drake,  Joseph  Rodman,  119. 
Drake,  Samuel  Adams,  309. 
Dunlap,  William,  27. 
Dwight,  Timothy,  26. 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  11. 
Eggleston,  Edward,  297. 
Eliot,  John,  7. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  122. 
Evans,  Miss  Augusta  J.,  241. 
Everett,  Edward,  79. 

Fawcett,  Edgar,  283. 
Field,  Eugene,  316. 
Fiske,  John,  155,  301. 
Franklin,  Benjamin,  14. 
Freneau,  Philip,  25. 

Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  72. 
Gayerre,  Charles  Etienne,  241. 
Gibson,  William  Hamilton,  300. 
Gilder,  R.  W.,  281. 
Gilmore,  J.  R.,  242. 
Godfrey,  Thomas,  13. 

317 


318 


INDEX. 


Gookin,  Daniel,  6. 

Grant,  Robert,  293. 

Grant,  U.  S.,  309. 

Greene,  Anna  Katherine,  293. 

Habberton,  John,  293. 
Hale,  Edward  Everett,  214. 
Halleck,  Fitz-Greene,  117. 
Hamilton,  Alexander,  30. 
Hammond,  John,  3. 
Hardy,  A.  S.,  285. 
Harland,  Henry,  292. 
Harris,  Joel  Chandler,  294. 
Harris,  "w.  T.,  155. 
Harte,  Francis  Bret,  244. 
Hawthorne,  Julian,  281. 
Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  157. 
Hay,  John,  307. 
Hayne,  Paul,  239. 
Hearn,  Lafcadio,  282. 
Henry,  Patrick,  35. 
Higginson,  T.  W.,  307. 
Holland,  Josiah  Gilbert,  213. 
Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  173. 
Hooker,  Thomas,  8. 
Hopkins,  Mark,  155. 
Hopkinson,  Francis,  26. 
Howe,  E.  W.,  298. 
Howells,  William  Dean,  256. 

Irving,  Washington,  38. 

Jackson,  Mrs.  H.  H.,  286. 
James,  Henry,  Sr.,  156. 
lames,  Henry,  250. 
Janvier,  Thomas  A.,  299. 
Jay,  John,  33. 
Jefterson,  Thomas,  27. 
Jewett,  Sarah  Orne,  285. 
Johnston,  Richard  Malcolm,  299. 

Kennedy,  John  Pendleton,  239. 
Kimball,  Richard,  242. 
King,  Charles,  291. 
Kinney,  Coates,  277. 

Lanier,  Sydney,  278. 
Lathrop,  George  Parsons,  284. 
Lawson,  John,  3. 
Lazarus.  Emma,  282. 


Leland,  Charles  Godfrey,  307. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  80. 
Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth,  102. 
Longstreet,  Augustus  B.,  241. 
Lowell,  James  Russell,  185. 

McMaster,  John  Bach,  309. 

Madison,  James,  32. 

Mason,  John,  7. 

Mather,  Cotton,  10. 

Mather,  Increase,  10. 

Mather,  Richard,  10. 

Mather,  Samuel,  10. 

Matthews,  Brander,  299. 

Mayo,  W.  S,,  213. 

Melville,  Herman,  210. 

Miller,  C.  H.,  (Joaquin),  248. 

Mitchell,  Donald  G.,  (Ik  Marvel),  242. 

Morton,  Thomas,  5. 

Motley,  John  Lothrop,  85, 

Norton,  Andrew,  155. 
Noyes,  Nicholas,  13. 
Nye,  E.W.,  (Bill).  316. 

Oakes,  Urian,  9. 
O'Brien,  Fitz-James,  279. 
Ossoli,  Margaret  Fuller,  150. 
Otis,  James,  34. 

Page,  Thomas  Nelson,  299. 
Paine,  Thomas,  27. 
Palfrey,  ]ohn  Gorham,  81. 
Pardee,  R,  G.,  301. 
Parker,  Theodore,  155. 
Parkman,  Francis,  83, 
Parton,  James,  306. 
Paulding,  James  Kirk,  63. 
Payne,  J.  H.,  27, 
Pendleton,  Louis,  293. 
Percy,  George,  3. 
Phelps,  Elizabeth  Stewart,  287. 
Phillips,  Wendell.  73. 
Poe,  Edgar  Allan,  52. 
Prescott,  William  Hickling,  82. 

Quincy,  Edmund,  241. 
Quincy,  Josiah,  36. 

Reid,  Christian,  293. 

Riley,  James  Whitcomb,  316. 


INDEX, 


319 


Rives,  Amelie,  293. 
Roe,  E.  P.,  289. 
Rowiandson,  Mary,  7. 
Rowson,  Susanna,  62. 

Saltus,  Edgar,  293. 

Saxe,  John  G.,  242. 

Sewall,  Samuel,  6. 

Seward,  William  H.,  80. 

Shaw,  H.  W.,  (Josh  Billings),  316. 

Shepard,  Thomas,  9. 

Shillaber,  B.  P.,  316. 

SimTns,  William  Gilmore,  239. 

Smith,  Captain  John,  2. 

Southworth,  Mrs.  E.  D.  E.  N.,  241. 

Sparks,  Jared,  80. 

Spofford,  Harriet  Prescott,  281. 

Stedman,  Edmund  Clarence,  273, 

Stephens,  Alexander  H,,  80. 

Stimson,  F.  J.,  285. 

Stith,  William,  8. 

Stockton,  Frank  R.,  266. 

Stoddard,  Mrs.  E.  B.,  211. 

Stoddard,  Richard  H.,  271. 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher,  89. 

Strachey,  William,  3. 

Sumner,  Charles,  73. 

Taylor,  Bayard,  216. 
Tenney,  Tabitha,  62. 
Thaxter,  Celia,  282, 
Thomas,  Edith,  282. 
Thomas,  Gabriel,  3. 


Thoreau,  Henry  David,  147, 
Ticknor,  George,  89. 
Trumbull,  John,  26. 
Tyler,  Moses  Coit,  311. 
Tyler,  Royall,  26. 

Very,  Jones,  155. 

Wallace,  Lew,  290. 

Warner,  Charles  Dudley,  303. 

Webb,  C.  H.,  315. 

Webster,  Daniel.  74. 

Weiss,  John,  155. 

Whipple,  E.  P.,  208. 

Whitaker,  Alexander,  6. 

White,  Richard  Grant,  305. 

Whitman,  Walt,  261. 

Whitney,  Mrs.  A.  D.  T.,  242. 

Whittier,  John  G.,  200. 

Wigglesworth,  Michael,  12. 

Wilde,  Richard  Henry,  241. 

Willard,  Samuel,  11. 

Williams,  John,  7. 

Williams,  Roger,  9. 

Willis,  N.  P.,  63. 

Winslow,  Edward,  4. 

Winthrop,  John,  5. 

Winthrop,  Robert  Charles,  79. 

Winthrop,  Theodore,  215. 

Wirt,  Charles  William,  241. 

Wise,  John,  11. 

Woolson,  Constance  Fenimore,  285. 


^ 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

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